The Potter Politics
by Johnny Farrar
Summary: Power comes in various ways and forms. A young Harry learns of the power that the station in his life grants him. Politics, intellect and magic all comes together as Harry struggles to combat the forces that seek to utilise him to their nefarious ends.
1. The Potions Professor

**The Potter Politics

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**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoats Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter.

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**Chapter 1****  
The Potions Professor**

The door of the Potions classroom in the dungeons banged open and a heavy set man wearing a rather tight vest entered, striding rapidly towards the podium in front of the class of first year Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Harry observed his Head of House, Horace Slughorn as the man turned around to face them on top of the small podium. Honestly, Harry thought that his Head of House looked a bit like a walrus, with his effusive features, wispy hair, short moustache and enormous body.

"Welcome to first year potions." The professor addressed the classroom, opening his arms wide in a gesture of his words. "Every one of you here has by now seen some of the many wonders and glamour's of Hogwarts. You have probably been enamoured by the sheer power and complexity of the subjects that you have seen so far. Transfiguration, where you can change one element to another with just a flick of your wand; Charms, where you can enchant anything you wish," Professor Slughorn continued enthusiastically, while looking at each student in the eye at least once. When he came to Harry sitting near the very end of the Slytherin rows, he gave him a small wink. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, where you learn to combat and defend yourself against the malevolent forces that stalk our land, well that's the official line, most of you only learn how to jinx and hex your friends and adversaries."

Laughter broke out among students at this, most prominently among the Gryffindors. None of the first years yet had a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson and most were eager to begin. Harry himself had heard rumours from fellow students that the defence professor, Severus Snape was an extremely capable wizard and very knowledgeable about the Dark Arts, though he was supposed to be extremely short tempered and very over-bearing on anyone not from Slytherin.

Harry looked back at Slughorn as he heard the man resume. "As such most of you would wonder about the need for brewing potions. Do not listen to those who would say that Potions are only for those that cannot achieve true magic with wands. Indeed, Potions is not quite like the magic you've seen yet. Oh no, no they are not. They are more powerful and more subtle than any magic that you can fathom do with your wand."

The man stopped slightly giving the class a moment to take in what he had said. Harry found the man quite amiable. He wasn't as strict as McGonagall had been in her very first class and neither as casual as Flitwick either. Yet, he still had the ability to simply capture his audience's minds.

"As such it is my fervent hope that you will strive hard to become at the very least decent brewers and will try to achieve at least an Acceptable when you sit for your O.W.L's."

_Owls_, thought Harry confused. _What did he mean sit on owls?_

Wizards were rather strange, he had found that, but he didn't know if they were as strange as being required to sit on owls. Harry had no doubt that his owl, Hedwig would rather mind that. He snorted at the weird mental thought. Most likely, Harry assumed it was just another term he hadn't heard of.

From his satchel, Harry picked out a thin notebook with coloured pages that had once belonged to Dudley. He flicked through the first few pages filled with untidy scrawling of terms and phrases that he had heard in the Wizarding world, since, his inception in it a few months back when Hagrid had come. As he turned a few more pages, he realised just how many things there was that he didn't even have a cursory knowledge of. He had almost finished a quarter of the notebook in just a week that he had been in Hogwarts. He scribbled down untidily the word _Owls_ with question marks in front of it.

He planned to go to the library to search out the meaning of the terms. It might have been easier and less tedious to just ask some of his fellow students. But Harry rather liked the feeling of doing it on his own. More importantly, he was rather embarrassed to ask his dorm-mates about things that were probably considered elementary knowledge in the Wizarding world, especially when he himself was apparently so famous that just about every one that he had met so far knew about him and his story.

Harry put the notebook back into his satchel and turned towards the teacher who was writing something on the blackboard. Well, exactly the writing was appearing by itself on the board; the professor just made a few swishes of his wand every now and then.

"All right," the professor turned towards them, "if I know my colleagues, just about none of you have actually begun to use magic in your classes just yet. Only learning the theory drivel that they are feeding you at this point." The professor looked on questioningly and most of the student mumbled a positive. "Well," the man continued, "we will eschew that procedure and start with some practical application of what you're going to learn in my class."

The entire class sat up straight at those words. None of them had been yet allowed to do magic in the class and only been told that it could be dangerous for those who didn't even know the theory. So, they were given lectures on how magic was done and performed while being unable to do so. And suddenly there was a Professor who was willing to allow them to do something real.

"You will find the instructions on the board. Your goal is to make a working Boil Cure Potion. I definitely do not expect a perfect potion, but what I need to see is your dedication, skill and concentration."

"You may begin." Harry turned to note down the ingredients from the blackboard to his copy when the professor's voice again sounded. "Did I mention that there was a reward?" If anything, everyone turned to look at the Professor with curiosity and anticipation. "Oh yes," the Professor smiled, "there is a reward. The person who submits the best potion will get this." He fished out a bottle of dark white potion from the pockets of his coat. "This is a Reminiscence Retention Draught that will help you remember anything you read for a week."

"Now, now, remember, memory draughts are not to be used in exams. Do not try it either. Since, you will most definitely get caught. Also, to whosoever, wins this potion," he said, shaking the vial in front of the class, "take it within a week itself. Memory draughts have a low shelf life and turn practically useless after a few weeks." He gestured with his hand for the class to begin and put the phial on his table, in full view of everyone.

Harry looked at the vial of potion greedily. This could really help him out. He would remember everything that he would read for a week. That was great. No longer would he feel so hopelessly behind everyone.

Harry quickly took note of the ingredients needed and walked over to the student's cupboard and waited in line behind the students who were gathering their stuff. The girl in front of him, with lots of bushy hair was muttering something under her breath. Feeling curious, Harry tried to catch her words, only to realise she was muttering the recipe of the potion verbatim. Harry turned to look at the blackboard and saw the score of long lines that precisely described each of the different steps of the potion, and then looked back at the girl in front of her.

_She had __memorised__ that in a few minutes. Wow!_

His chances of winning the potion were becoming shorter. He looked back at the blackboard and squinted to read the lines and started memorising them himself. He had only read through the first two lines when a girl behind him tapped his shoulder. He looked back a bit irritably only to see her nod in front of him. Harry turned around and saw to his dismay that the people in front of him were done picking their ingredients. He hastily stepped towards the cupboard and took the ingredients required and hurried over to his seat.

With precise hand movements, Harry shaved off the porcupine quills, as his Boil Cure Potion beside him bubbled a thin, light whitish colour. Harry gave his potion another look out of the corner of his eye and _huffed_. The potion should have turned a light grey by now after the addition of the stewed snake fangs, and probably a bit denser too. He had followed the steps correctly, yet it was not as it should have been. He turned off the flame that was heating the potion and dropped the clean porcupine quills into it, which turned it into a dirty white, instead of the off-white it was supposed to be.

Harry took a few steps back from the rising vapours of the potion and allowed it simmer for a while as the instructions demanded. He turned and looked around at the class at large. Most people had their sweating faces bent over their cauldrons. From the looks of it, his potion was far from the worst in the class. Harry gave a sigh of relief at that. Actually, only a few students had achieved a better result than him, the bushy haired girl's potion had turned a proper light grey, though it still did not have that off-white shade to it that was mentioned in the instructions.

Harry noticed the professor had gotten up from his chair and was making rounds of the class. He would stop by to peek into someone's potion and mutter something to the student. Harry saw the man speaking lowly to a slightly pudgy looking Gryffindor, who looked extremely nervous. Harry assumed his potion was the reason for that. It had turned a dark green instead of the various shades of white that his fellow classmates had produced and was giving of copious amount of acidic smoke. The professor muttered something and the boy turned to look at Slughorn with an expression that hinted that he had just been rescued from some grievous danger.

Harry turned back to his potion and increased the flame and got back to working on it.

"Very good, Harry. Very good." Harry gave a slight jump and turned to look behind him, his heart thumping in his chest at the sudden voice. Professor Slughorn was standing right behind him and was peeking into his potion. Harry's Head of House continued, "Easily one of the finest attempts in the class. But then again, I shouldn't be surprised considering what a Potions prodigy your mother was." He nodded to himself as if it confirmed something and turned his head up to look at Harry.

Harry on the other hand was pretty much shocked. His Head of the House knew his mother. It was possible of course; Hagrid had told him that his parents had gone to school here. So it was likely that there would be those who would remember them. Harry felt a surge of pride as he fully registered the Professor's words. His mother had been good at Potions and he was good at it too, according to his teacher. Harry found himself smiling slightly at that.

"Stay behind after the class, will you Harry?" The professor muttered before moving onto another student's cauldron.

Harry blinked at the strange demand. Crossing his fingers, he hoped he was not in some kind of trouble. Watching that the professor was already busy with checking someone else's work, Harry got back to finishing his potion.

"All right, time's up. Fill up a vial with your potion, label it with your name and leave it on my desk." The professor announced to the class.

The students got busy doing as they were bid to do. Harry neatly labeled his potion vial and left it at the teacher's desk.

Slughorn sat down at his desk and started checking all the vials. The rest of the class waited with bated breath to find out who had won the potion. Harry was sure that he would not win. While his attempt may have been good, it was far from the best in the class.

"The clear winner," Slughorn said, picking up a phial of proper off-white coloured potion. Harry's heart sank. Yes, he hadn't expected to win, but still. "And the winner is ... Mr. Blaise Zabini. Come here, Mr. Zabini."

A dark looking Slytherin kid slid out from his table and walked towards the Professor with a proud smile on his face. "Well done, m'boy. Well done." Slughorn said, thumping Zabini's back.

"Here is your rightfully earned potion." Blaise pocketed the Reminiscence Retention Draught with a smirk and walked back to his set.

"Well, that's all for today. In the next class, we'll discuss this potion and some of the rules governing the art of potion making."

With that the class dispersed. Harry remained behind and watched the rest of the class slowly shuffle out of the classroom.

Soon the only people left were Harry and Slughorn. Harry slowly approached the Professor, who was flicking through some notes on his desk.

"Um ... Sir, you asked for me?" Harry queried in a small voice. He was getting rather apprehensive with the lone one-to-one with his Head of House.

Slughorn looked up from his papers and gave Harry a large smile. "Oh! Yes, yes."

"No need to be afraid Mr. Potter, you are not in any trouble. If anything, your potion was quite exemplary for someone who has not had much knowledge about magic," he said effusively.

"Err ... Thank you, sir," Harry replied politely.

"Now, of course, you're wondering, why I asked you to stay behind?" Slughorn did not bother for an answer before continuing, "Well, you see Harry, I've a small get together tomorrow evening and I would like you to join me. I've heard of the rather curious nature of your upbringing, growing up with Muggles and then suddenly finding about your heritage. It can be a large shock for even a common Muggle-born. But Harry, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, and I'm sure that it has been quite difficult for you to adjust to your new surroundings and the culture, especially with all the hype surrounding your return. Getting to know your fellow wizards and witches Harry will help you adjust better."

"Now, now, there is no need to be nervous, m'boy. It is just a common get together. You will even find some your own classmates there. Why Mr. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy are coming. You need not worry, you will find yourself right at home."

Slughorn looked at Harry smilingly, waiting for an answer. Harry did not really know what to say. He was sure he could not refuse, not that he wanted to either.

"I would be honoured to come, sir." Harry said with extreme politeness. If the Dursley's had done one thing, it was that they had drilled into Harry's head about proper etiquette while talking to his apparent betters.

"Excellent, excellent. Hope to see you tomorrow then, Harry." Slughorn gave a large smile towards the young boy.

Harry noticing the dismissal turned around and started walking. He had not even taken two steps, before an idea formed in his head.

He turned back towards his Professor, who had gone back to his notes and slowly asked, "Um ... Sir, I ... eh ..." Harry hesitated.

Slughorn immediately glanced up from his papers and said, "Have something on your mind, m'boy. Don't be afraid ... ask away."

"Sir, I was wondering if you knew my parent's well," Harry asked in one breath before he lost his nerves.

"Ah, Lily Evans and James Potter." Slughorn sighed and leaned back on his chair, suddenly appearing very tired. "Yes, Harry, I knew them. I knew them well enough," he said softly.

"It's just that I don't know them," Harry said badly. And then paused, before saying slowly in a weak voice, "I mean I know their name and how they died. And Hagrid told me they were Gryffindors. But I don't know anything else. I don't know what they were like and not even what they looked like," Harry finished.

"I was just wondering sir, if it's not too much of a trouble, could you tell me a bit about them," Harry asked apprehensively. "Of course, I'd understand if you are too busy. I just thought that I should ask," Harry finished in a small voice.

Slughorn opened his eyes and looked at Harry with a strange emotion that Harry couldn't quite discern. "Not at all, m'boy. Why don't you do one thing? You are coming to the get together tomorrow, aren't you? Stay behind, after everyone's done and let me see if I can't tell you some funny anecdote of your parent's school life."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry gratefully and turned to leave. He had grabbed his slung bag and was about to walk out of the classroom when Slughorn's voice interrupted him.

"She was one of my favourites, you know." Harry turned back to look at his Professor. Slughorn was staring ahead of him, a distant look in his eyes, as if lost in the memories of the past.

"Vivacious, she was. Lily Evans," he spoke the name with a soft sigh. "Very beautiful and very lively. She was full of life. You know, she could put a smile on my face every time I saw her. Anyone who has ever met her couldn't help but fall in love with her. She was that kind of person."

Slughorn jerked his head, as if trying to clear his head of painful thoughts.

"Your father on the other hand was quite the hellion. Brilliant mind and exceptional talent, he had a penchant for creating mayhem wherever he went. But he was loved too. His funny antics, you could not help but laugh, no matter how angry you're at him for making an explosive potion instead of the Draught of Peace." Slughorn shook his head slightly, a soft smile touching his lips. "I can't really say that I knew James as well as I did Lily. But he was a brilliant boy, very talented. Probably one of the more skilled students to have walked the halls of Hogwarts ... even if he was turning those very halls into marshes," he finished with a laugh.

He looked at Harry, as if noticing for the first time that he was still there. "Oh dear, you'll be late for your next class. Here, I'll write you a note." He quickly scribbled something on a paper. Harry moved to pick it up but Slughorn gave a tiny flick of his wrist and the note flew into the air turning into a small paper-bird before coming to rest on Harry's open hand.

"Off you go now, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Harry quickly shuffled out of the classroom, thinking about all the things his Head of House had told him about his parents.

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**A.N:** This is a new AU story that I am writing. It will feature a politically aware Harry, who will use his political might to defeat his enemies and gain power.

Instead of a thorough step-by-step development of the story, I will be telling most of the story in snippets. It will be sequential, but I will be jumping to the major plot points.

**Acknowledgments:** Credit goes to _Aekiel_, who first came up with the basic theme of the story.


	2. The Slug Party

**The Potter Politics**

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**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoats Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter.

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**Chapter 2  
The Slug Party**

Emerald eyes watched coolly as the party carried on full swing. Casually leaning against the wall, Harry was hidden behind some decorative curtains with a full view of the large oval ball-room, but was himself hidden from most. Not that there was any reason for him to hide. He was just getting rather tired and bored of Slughorn showing him around to various Ministry officials, who had come for the Christmas Eve party. Harry had suspicions that the reason for such a strong turnaround of important people was perhaps because of his presence.

Despite that Harry had to admit, he was enjoying his first ever proper Christmas. Being shoved into a cupboard and hearing the Dursley's cry the Christmas carol in a voice that strained the ears didn't count as Christmas.

As Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer, a voice broke him from his thoughts.

"What're you doing hiding their, Potter? Don't think I don't see you there." Harry looked up lazily to find the lanky form of a rather perturbed looking Terence Higgs, current Head Boy of Hogwarts.

"I know you're planning some mischief, boy. You take one step out of the line, and I'll catch you. My eyes are following you around Potter. So you better watch out." Terence lifted his index and middle fingers and pointed it to his eyes before pointing towards him.

"Stuff it, Terence," replied Harry amusedly.

Terence laughed before moving in behind the curtains to join him.

"So, why are you hiding in here?" asked Terence.

Harry shrugged his shoulders in reply, before looking out to the mass of people. He watched Ambrosius Flume surrounded by a group of giggling boys and girls. Harry smiled, he was a nice guy. He'd just met the man a few minutes earlier – Slughorn had introduced him – and Harry had been immediately taken with his infectious smile and boisterous nature. Owner of a sweet shop in Hogsmeade, he had invited him to his shop when he was old enough to go to the village.

"What's with imitating Snape?" Harry asked Terrence absent-mindedly.

"Just thought you'd find it amusing," Higgs replied.

"Right," replied Harry sarcastically.

"So what's this that I hear about you blasting Professor Snape off his feet in a duel," asked Terrence curiously.

Harry turned to look up at Terrence and smirked after a fashion of his classmate, Blaise. "But of course, Snape y'know, lost his control in class – not unusual for him – and challenged me to a duel. I guess he was just jealous of my natural abilities. Obviously, he was no match for my skills and I blasted him off with a single spell before he could so much as begin casting," replied Harry arrogantly.

"You're so full of shit, Potter. Tell me what really happened," Terrence queried.

Harry laughed. "Nothing so serious, really. I just disagreed with him on how to best evade spells in a homework essay. Snape being Snape called me out in class and asked me to demonstrate my _jumping-monkey_ evasion technique, as he called it. He threw a spell at me without even warning me. I reacted and cast that Shield Charm you showed me. The spell, whatever it was, rebounded and he was hanging upside down by his ankles," said Harry.

"You hung Snape upside down," Terrence asked incredulously.

"Yep, though I don't think he was expecting me to shield the spell, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to get him," said Harry thoughtfully.

"I thought you weren't able to get _protego _to work," Terence asked frowning.

"I've been practicing constantly for the last three weeks. I was bound to get it down sooner or later," replied Harry.

Higgs nodded and said, "I see. Dare I ask what Snape's retaliation was?"

"Detention for two months with Filch," answered Harry promptly.

"Ouch! That's harsh. It wasn't as if you did anything wrong," replied Terrence sympathetically.

"Like Snape cares," scoffed Harry. "Anyway, Slughorn interfered and got it cancelled."

"I bet Snape wasn't happy about that."

"Of course he wasn't, but it wasn't as if he could do anything. He has been avoiding me these past few weeks. No longer calling me up in class or trying to humiliate me. I wouldn't really mind if this continues."

"I don't understand why he doesn't like you. He is known to favour Slytherins heavily after all. Was a Slytherin himself, if I remember correctly."

"Dunno. I asked Slughorn about it. He didn't tell me. I bet he knows though. He pretty much knows everything about everyone," replied Harry, his eyes automatically sought out Slughorn in the party. The professor was talking to a tall man with a pot belly. He'd look around here and there whilst talking to the other man. Harry got the impression that his teacher was looking for him.

"Slughorn didn't tell you. And here I thought the man would do anything for you. The way he keeps going on about you in the club meets," said Terrence.

"Ah, well his answer was a vague: _Professor Snape has some personal issues_," recounted Harry, "Not very helpful. I just don't understand why he is still a professor the way he treats the students."

"Whoa, hold it right there. Snape is a really good teacher." Harry looked at Terence incredulously at the statement.

"Yeah right," Harry said sarcastically.

"No, seriously, he is a good teacher."

"And why is that, cause he likes all Slytherins other than me," Harry asked bitterly.

"No. It's because he teaches well. And yes he does," he asserted at Harry's disbelieving look. "D'you know who taught Defence before Snape." Harry shook his head. "Well, I don't either," Terrence continued. "But from what I heard, the teachers kept on changing every year; there was some rumour that the Defence against the Dark Arts position was cursed. So, anyway, the quality of the instruction was very inconsistent."

"I know this guy – he is an Auror now – he'd seven different professors for Defence while he was at Hogwarts. Some were good and some terrible. You wanna know what he told me, he said, he'd never have made an Auror if Snape didn't come in his seventh year. With Snape he managed to scrape an E and make the Academy," continued Terrence.

"Bet he was a Slytherin," Harry said.

"No, Ravenclaw. Look, I know Snape behaves badly with the students."

"Badly!" interrupted Harry. "He insults them, humiliates them."

"Yes, yes," Terrence continued before Harry could get into one of his Snape outbursts. "Maybe he does. But look at what you've learned in your first term. How many jinxes and hexes do you know, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth; Terrence interrupted, "The one's you learned in class."

"Three ... four," replied Harry, after counting it in his head, "I haven't managed to get the Body Bind jinx to work yet," said Harry, "... need to practice that one," he mentioned as an after-thought.

"How many do you really know?" Terrence asked curiously.

"About half-a-dozen, I guess," replied Harry.

"So, do you see my point," Terrence asked. Harry shook his head.

"Before Snape was the teacher, you know what they taught in first year." Harry shrugged at Terrence's question. "History of Dark wizards. And if you were lucky and the teacher you had was a competent one – remember, I told you the professors kept on changing, so there wasn't a fixed curriculum – you just might be able to pick up a hex or a jinx in your first year. Though that was rare." Harry looked on in askance as Terrence explained.

"Quite unlike how Snape teaches, right?" Harry nodded hesitantly at Terrence's question.

"Earlier, you wouldn't even learn a proper curse until your fourth year." Terrence stated.

"What!" asked Harry.

"Yep, you learned a bit of jinxes and hexes in your second year; third year was all about dark creatures."

"Snape said that we were going to advance to basic curses in the spring term," said Harry quietly.

"See. Snape doesn't believe in coddling his students. He may be caustic in his behaviour but at least he is a competent teacher. And if you can score an O in your O.W.L's and take advanced Defence you'd see just how much Snape knows about the Dark Arts."

Terence paused for a moment to allow Harry to take in what he'd been saying before continuing. "It's like I said, he really is a good teacher and the O.W.L and N.E.W.T scores speak for themselves. Earlier people rarely got an Exceeds Expectation, most managed to scrape just an Acceptable and many failed. Whereas, E is hardly uncommon these days, some even get an O, which though rare is not unusual. And just about everyone manages to scrape an A." Finished Terrence.

Harry nodded pensively. He hadn't quite thought of it that way. It was right after all that Snape didn't believe in coddling his students. In fact, his teaching was downright harsh, he would throw unknown curses on his students and expect them to block it, even if they didn't know how to or face the curse and spend the night at the Hospital Wing. They did learn a lot even though the method of teaching was rather brutal.

So, all in all, maybe he was a competent teacher, since, he could never be a good one, at least not to Harry, but he was still a terrible human being. Harry nodded to himself; his opinion on Snape was still validated.

Harry looked at Terrence out of the corner of his eye. The lanky boy was sipping on his wine as he looked out at the masses of people. Harry smiled, theirs was a strange friendship. Senior years rarely ever mingled with the lower years. Busy as they were with their exams and planning their future careers. Yet, theirs was a close friendship between a first year and a seventh year, who also happened to be the Head Boy.

They had first met in one of Slughorn's get-togethers. Harry always came, since, the professor insisted and he'd tell Harry many humorous stories about his parent's school life after the meets and Terrence was a member of the Slug club because he was a brilliant student and very well-connected in the Ministry with his uncle being Bertie Higgs.

Harry had mentioned to Slughorn in a passing conversation that he enjoyed flying, after he'd just had his first flying lesson and was charged to ride a broomstick again. The Potions teacher asked Terrence to take Harry flying with him as first years weren't allowed on a broomstick without supervision.

Harry had insisted Terrence not to bother and that he could easily wait for his next flying lesson. The Head Boy had just laughed and told Harry that it was no problem teaching Harry how to fly. It turned out he didn't need to, Harry was so good on a broomstick that he very nearly out flew the older boy on the pitch. Terrence was shocked, there he was a seeker with the Slytherin Quidditch squad for nearly three years and Harry, who had no previous training on a broomstick, just out flew him.

It marked the beginning of their friendship. Terrence asked him to join for a casual match that weekend. People would come out to the Quidditch pitch on weekends, form teams and just play without the tension of winning or losing. There were no House boundaries and anyone from any House could play for anyone as long as they were good.

Nobody objected to him being there, but Harry could tell they weren't as excited to play with him as they were to just meet him. It was fairly clear to Harry, why not. There were no other first years playing, indeed other than a single second year and a few third years, most were senior year students.

That only lasted until he began to play. He wasn't the best player on the squad – he played a chaser – but he was definitely one of the better fliers around. By the end of the first match, which they lost cause the opposing team managed to snag the Snitch before Higgs could, Harry hadn't made a single score, his two attempts had gone wide off the hoop, but he'd hindered countless passes of the opposing chasers and stopped them from scoring a couple of times too. After that first match he was widely welcomed to play again with them.

After the games were over, most people got together to just sit down and relax and talk to their friends from the other Houses. Terrence had stopped him from attending at first but fellow players overturned his demand and took Harry along with them.

They all wanted to know about him and be friends with him. Harry found it to be quite fun. Of course, Terrence had his reasons for stopping him and that became clear as soon as the beers and wine casks were brought out. It was the first time Harry had ever drunk Butterbeer. The crowd got more and more rowdy as they got drunk; stories were swapped, gossips were circulated and rumours were spread. Discussions ranged from something as varied as performance in the latest test to the hottest girls around.

Harry was extremely embarrassed the first few times he heard the others talk about girls. His embarrassment rose to an insurmountable high when he bore witness to some of the make-out sessions. His fellow players and other spectators weren't of course going to let him be alone and he was soon inundated with girls, who'd come up to give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek and tell him how brave he was to defeat the Dark Lord. It took quite some time before he got over his embarrassment. He still blushed heavily when the senior years would discuss the intricacies of a date out loud, but at least he got over his stuttering when they asked for his opinion.

Harry looked at Terrence and saw him looking out intently at someone. Following his gaze, Harry found himself looking at a black-haired girl talking to a gaggle of girls. He looked back at Terrence and saw the pining expression on the older boy's face.

Harry smiled and said, "Just ask her out already."

Terrence looked at him smirking. "What ... who?"

"Duh ... the girl you're looking at." Harry motioned with his head to the said girl.

Terrence face took a morose expression. "She is out of my league."

"Oh c'mon, why'd you think that?" asked Harry exasperatedly.

Terrence did not reply. Harry sighed, and asked, "What's her name?"

"Nymphadora Tonks. She prefers Tonks."

"Nymphadora," Harry laughed, "wow, unique name. What House?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Really Terrence, falling for a 'puff now. Have your standards turned so low?" Harry asked jokingly. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins didn't mix all that well. Many Slytherins thought Hufflepuffs were dumb and lower year 'puffs were often bullied by some of the senior Slytherins. They didn't specifically target the 'puffs, from what he'd heard it was just easy to get away with the bullying with them. It did however cause caused quite a bit of a friction between the two houses.

"Not as bad as getting your arse handed to you in a duel by a Hufflepuff, is it," Terrence quipped back.

Harry's mood immediately turning sour and he replied shortly, "I didn't lose against Diggory. I just ..."

"Yes, what. Do explain why you were crying like a little girl after Diggory hit you with a Joint Inversion Jinx."

"I didn't cry," stated Harry through gritted teeth. "And I allowed him to win. It must be difficult to be a 'puff and lose all the time, so I just allowed him to win," replied Harry vehemently. He personally had nothing against the 'puffs, indeed he was good friends with Susan, the girl he sat next to in Defence, but he just couldn't stand Diggory. The boy just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Right. So, the Quidditch games that he'd won against us do not count," Terrence asked with a small smile.

"We're discussing you're lack of a girl-friend here, Higgs, not me and Diggory," Harry replied back angrily. Terrence immediately sobered up.

Harry waited a few minutes for his anger on Cedric Diggory to abate before encouraging Terrence once again to ask the girl. "Who knows, she may say yes."

"She is popular, I'm not," Terrence replied.

Well, that was true. Terrence wasn't exactly popular among the students. He was a bit of an introvert and that caused problems while making friends. Harry wondered if it was for that very reason that he was such good friends with a first year. _Probably_, thought Harry.

"Um ... you're the Head Boy and a damn good one at that."

Terrence smiled. "She is very pretty."

"You're intelligent," Harry replied back.

"She is a meta—" Terrence began, when Harry saw the girl's hair change from black to vibrant pink.

"Whoa ... what was that? Why is she putting Colouring Charms on her hair in a party?" Harry asked bewildered.

"She is a metamorphagmus," explained Terrence.

"A what?" asked Harry, confused.

"She can morph her body at will without a wand. It's a natural ability of hers. Very rare."

Harry nodded before turning towards Terrence and said sympathetically, "You're right, she's way out of your league."

Terrence face turned even more morose at that.

Harry looked at him amusedly before saying, "What'll you give me if I can get you a date with her?"

Terrence looked at him with incredulity. "You've no cha—"

"Leave that to me," interrupted Harry. "Tell me what'll you give me if I can?"

Slytherin motto: _Never do anything for free_. He remembered some Slytherin telling him that one once in a Slug club-meet. There were a bunch of these unofficial and colloquial Slytherin's mottos that were passed down from the seniors to the uninitiated. Most were rather funny and Harry had wondered who'd come up with those. But some like this one were quite useful.

Terrence scoffed. "What d'you want?"

Harry thought over it. What did he want? An idea hit him. "How about showing me some nasty curses from your advanced Defence class? I really want to get back at _Pretty Boy_ Diggory."

"What's the deal between you and Diggory anyway," demanded Terence.

"I hate him," said Harry fiercely.

"And why is that?" Terrence asked amusedly.

"You remember that Quidditch game a few weeks ago, where I, uh ... threw the Quaffle at Diggory to stop him from getting the snitch," asked Harry.

"Yes, I do. You made some excuse like you didn't see him there or something," replied Terence.

"Diggory was quite livid that you managed to snatch the Snitch from him and so after the party was over, I caught him telling his friends, how Slytherins are good for only one thing and that's cheating. Well, I kinda told him that Hufflepuffs were good for only thing and that was losing."

Terrence grimaced and said, "You do realise Harry that 'puffs are rather sentimental about such things. They take their house pride quite seriously."

"Yeah," muttered Harry, "anyway, Diggory said some something about how I needed to learn respect and stuff and just because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived doesn't give me the right to lord over them. I retaliated by saying that he was a 'puff and should get used to being lorded over, after all that's what they were good for."

Terrence frowned at Harry's words but allowed him to continue.

"Anyway, he shoved his wand at my face and told me to shut up or how I was going to get mine. I didn't wait for him to curse me and drew my wand and hit him with a _furnunculus_."

Terrence interrupted Harry. "And at which point I'm sure Diggory retaliated and cursed you with a Joint Inversion Jinx, you lost the duel and left you in the corridor suffering the effects of the jinx, lonely and crying, whence I came upon you."

"I didn't lose," muttered Harry grumpily, but didn't bother to deny anything else.

"Of course you didn't lose. What is that you said ... ah! Yes, you allowed him to win because you took pity on his being a 'puff," said Terrence looking at Harry questioningly. Harry gave a sharp nod.

Terrence sighed. "Harry, you know you got quite lucky. Any other firstie insulting not only a third year senior but also his House like that would've gotten thoroughly cursed. There was hardly any need for violence. You know from what you said, Diggory wasn't trying to curse you or anything. It was you who made matters worse by cursing him."

"But he drew his wand on me—"

"What did you expect? You not only insulted Diggory in front of his friends but also you insulted their House. Diggory had to pull out his wand to save face or risk losing credibility to his own house-mates. And you'd to make things worse by actually cursing him. If you hadn't cursed him, he'd probably have threatened you a bit and then left you alone."

Terrence shook his head before saying, "Make no mistake Harry, only reason you got out relatively unscathed was you're who you are. In anyone else in you place would've been cursed into the next generation."

Harry got the hint that Higgs was really disappointed with him. He couldn't exactly refute the older boy's words, but damn it all, it'd been Diggory's fault and not his. And now he was even driving a wedge between him and Terence without even being there. He hated that boy.

"Ok, ok, I get it. I messed up," confessed Harry. "But let's leave Diggory alone for a while and discuss about your girl here."

Higgs instantly sobered up, his eyes landing upon Tonks, who'd now changed her hair to a jet black with long shades of violet. Harry had to admit, it was quite an interesting talent, this _metamorphag_– whatever it was.

"Harry, quit joking," snapped Terence. "If you want me to show you more magic, you know I've never denied. I did after all teach you the Shield Charm after Diggory cursed you and you came to me learn how to block unfriendly spells. But, but, I won't teach you any curses. Merlin only knows what you'd get up to."

"Ah! ... I'm serious here, Higgs. I can get you a date with her, if you teach me some curses."

"C'mon, Higgs," Harry persisted, seeing the Head Boy unsold on the idea, "you'd be going to the Auror Academy next year and you really don't wanna have any regrets about things you didn't do in your life."

"I'm not going to war Harry that I need to fulfil me last wishes. Anyways, I might not even get in. They take only the very best. I've to get the pre-requisite NEWT's, clear the entrance, which is ridiculously difficult and—"

"Oh, c'mon what's with being so negative, y'know you're gonna get in," interrupted Harry.

"Perhaps."

"So, what do you reckon? A date with your Tonks for a few dozen curses, I'd say that's a very cheap bargain."

"A few dozen curses," replied Terrence with incredulity. "I'm not sure I know more than a score and what makes you think I can't get a date with her on my own."

Harry laughed. "If you could, you would already have. So what do you say?"

Terrence seemed to be thinking over it, before muttering, "I've two conditions, no curse if you can't get me a date. And if you embarrass yourself – which is highly likely – I would deny any knowledge of this bargain."

Harry thrust out his hand. "You've got a deal."

Terrence shook his hand firmly.

"Alright then, here we go."

And with that, Harry stepped out into the lime-light and started walking towards the girl. A few people noticed him and gave him a wave to which he politely nodded.

He walked across the large oval room, all the while contemplating how best to go about it. He'd been confident in front of Terrence, but truthfully he really didn't how to ask a girl out for a date. He'd of course heard plenty of stories from his fellow players after Quidditch games, but in actuality he had no idea how to proceed personally. As he closed in on the girl, he was reminded of the times his fellow players would moan about how some girl had refused him a date and how painful and embarrassing it had been. And really, asking the girl out in a party was hardly the best way to avoid embarrassment, perhaps he'd be better off asking her out in private.

As he almost reached the girl, Harry hesitated and looked back at Terrence to see the lanky boy smiling at him in a manner that buoyed that he was acutely aware of Harry's nervousness and apparent lack of courage and was only waiting for him to give up or thoroughly embarrass himself.

Harry steeled his nerves and turned around. He was going to do it, if for nothing else then to prove himself to Terence.

He tapped the girl on her back quietly. The girl whirled around and looked about confusedly before looking down to see Harry.

"Hey kid," she said good-naturedly. "What'cha want?"

Harry swallowed and brushed aside his nervousness and said boldly, "I need to talk to you in private." He winced when he heard his own voice, a bit loud interspersed with shuddering nervousness. The girls in her conglomerate giggled at his words.

Tonks smiled at him amusedly, before turning to her companions. "Be back in moment."

They walked a few distance off to get some privacy.

"Alright, kid, whassup?" asked Tonks.

Harry looked back at her nervously. Now that he was talking to her, he couldn't exactly say what he wanted to. For that matter, he didn't even know what he was going to say, it wasn't as if he had planned a speech or something, but now that he was here, perhaps it would have been a better idea to do so.

Tonks frowned at him slightly before her face cleared up and she gave a slight giggle. She whispered softly, "You aren't gonna ask me out kid, are yeh?"

Harry blinked. Then blinked again, before flushing red in embarrassment and stuttered, cursing himself thoroughly, as he said, "No, no, ... no." Before he realised what he was saying.

"Erm, I mean, yes, I was gonna ask you for a date —"

"Look kid, you're quite cute really and if I was younger or if you were a bit older then I'm sure I'd have said yes," said Tonks politely.

Harry had never been more mortified in his entire life. The girl thought he was here to ask her to a date for himself. He groaned and cursed himself for getting stuck in such an awkward situation.

Tonks perhaps taking his disappointment as hurt from rejection, said, "Don't worry kid, I'm sure you'd find someone else ... perhaps someone closer to your age and who knows maybe when you grow up—"

"—wait, I'm not here to ask you to a date," Harry very nearly shouted, before giving a furtive look to see if anyone had heard him. Seeing no one particularly interested in them, he gave a soft sigh of relief.

"Oh! But you said —"

"No, I mean I'm here to ask you to a date ..."

Tonks only looked more confused, before smiling and said, "Don't take it too hard kiddo, rejection is name of the game, you get used it after a while."

Harry sighed before gritting his teeth and muttered angrily, "Shut up and listen to me."

Tonks blinked and looked a bit taken aback at his sudden anger.

"I'm here to ask you for a date, but not for me, I'm asking for a friend of mine," said Harry steadily.

"I don't think your friend would be quite the correct age for me either —," Tonks quietly replied.

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up."

Tonks frowned and looked at Harry with a tinge of anger.

"Good, now see that guy over there." Harry pointed where Terrence was standing, before giving him a light wave. Terrence looked on as if he was about to have a stroke, so pale his face was.

"Isn't that the Head —"

"—yes, he is the head Boy."

"Your friend is the Head Boy."

"Yeah."

"Then why are you asking me and not him."

"Well, he is kinda shy around girls, y'know and I thought I'd him a favour, is all"

"Right ..." She looked at him incredulously.

"So, anyways he is going to the Auror Academy next year when he graduates and he has fancied you for a long time now, but never had the guts to ask you. So I just wanna help him."

"He is going to the Academy?"

"Yes."

"That's cool. I'm trying to get in too."

"Great, so why don't you go over and talk to him, maybe make plans to go to Hogsmeade or whatever it is that you people do for dates."

Tonks looked at him amusedly but she didn't seem too convinced.

Harry sighed. "Look just go and talk to him, who knows you may end up liking him too and we would call the debt that you owe me fair and square."

"Debt ... what debt?" asked Tonks, confusion written clear on her face.

Harry blew the hair from his forehead displaying the famous lightning bolt scar.

Tonks eyes grew large as her eyes fell on his famous scar.

"You ... you're Harry Potter," she asked in wonder.

"Yep," Harry replied happily. "So are you gonna go talk to him. If you do, we can call your debt quits."

"Wha ... what debt? What're you talking about?" asked Tonks, confused and irritated.

Harry sighed and said slowly, "You know the one the entire Wizarding world owes for offing Volde – I mean, the Dark Lord." He almost caught himself as he said the Dark Lord's name. He had soon found out that calling the Dark Lord by his name was a sure-shot way to become a pariah in Hogwarts. After Slughorn had cautioned him against its use, Harry took to referring the man as Dark Lord instead of the silly You-Know-Who.

Tonks looked perplexed at his explanation though and if he was reading her correctly, which he was sure he was, her facial expressions emoted her thoughts very distinctly, then she was incredulous that he'd ask something for defeating the Dark Lord.

The debt thing was a bit of lie anyway. Something that Harry had grabbed on the fly, but really, now that Harry thought about it, people, especially the girls were always going on about how grateful they were that he had defeated the Dark Lord. It had been pleasing in the beginning but had soon turned into annoying. But really, if they were indeed so grateful to him, well, they should start by doing him some favours too in return.

"So, you gonna go talk to him," said Harry hopefully.

Tonks turned to look over at Terence for a moment before looking at Harry. "You said he was going to the Auror Academy."

"Yeah." Harry nodded enthusiastically.

Tonks sighed. "Alright then, I'll go talk to him, but I don't promise anything about a date."

"Great," said Harry, smiling widely. "C'mon, I'll introduce you." And with that he grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards where Terence was standing.

Tonks laughed beside him but allowed herself to be dragged along.

Harry looked at Terence with a proud smile as he and Tonks walked towards him. Terence looked amazed, his mouth hanging slightly open that Harry had actually managed to get Tonks to agree.

"Harry!"

Someone shouted his name and Harry stopped mid-track to look around, only to find his Head of House calling for him. Professor Slughorn waddled towards him and grabbed him by his shoulders.

"I was looking for you, m'boy. Where were you? Ah, well, never mind that now. There is a man I'd very much like you to meet," Slughorn said hurriedly.

"Err ... sir," Harry said, looking towards Tonks.

Slughorn noticing Tonks standing beside Harry, smiled at the girl. "Enjoying yourself, Miss Tonks."

"Yes, sir. Very nice party. The best I've been to so far in Hogwarts," she said courteously.

"Thank you, Miss. Tonks," he replied smilingly, looking a bit proud. Harry had often noticed with his professor that it was very easy to flatter the man and get into his good graces.

"Let's go Harry, you must meet Ludo," Slughorn told him, before grabbing him by his upper arm and dragging him along.

Harry looked back over his shoulder at Tonks, frustrated with the sudden turn of events. Tonks laughed at his pinning expression and said loud, "I'll go talk to your friend Harry, don't worry. After all, I do owe you," she said shaking her head.

Harry sighed a breath of relief and allowed himself to be dragged by Slughorn to wherever the man was taking him.

"Harry, m'boy, this is Mr. Ludovic Bagman," Slughorn said, while pushing him in front of himself.

Harry looked up to see a tall, well-built man with a pot belly. He'd noticed the man earlier talking with Slughorn.

"And this Ludo is Harry Potter," said Slughorn jovially.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Harry politely forwarding his hand.

Ludo grabbed his hand in a vigorous hand-shake and said, "The pleasure is all mine, Harry. The pleasure is all mine." His eyes falling upon the lightning bolt scar that was visible on Harry's forehead.

"Slughorn tells me you're a very talented flier," Bagman said curiously.

"I enjoy flying sir. I'm fairly decent at it," replied Harry quietly. Modesty was good — one should after all never blow one's own trumpet. Another lesson that Harry had learned at the Dursley's, quite painfully too.

"Oh! The boy is too modest, I tell you, Ludo. He is the one of the best fliers that Hogwarts has seen in generations," Slughorn interjected.

"I see," Ludo said cheerfully. Harry thought that man looked a bit like an over-grown school-boy instead of an important dignitary, with his rosy cheeks and boyish face.

"Ludo used to play for the Wimbourne Wasps, Harry. Was one of their most celebrated beaters," Slughorn informed him.

"Really," Harry said with a huge smile. Slughorn often mentioned his association with famous Quidditch players in the club meets. Harry was glad he was being introduced to them. He wondered if it was because of his phenomenal flying skills.

"Yes, though it has been years now, since, I've played competitively," Ludo said laughing. "I organise Quidditch events these days and instead of playing, I sit back and cheer the players on." Bagman sighed as if regretting being unable to play anymore.

"He is also the Head of the Department of Magical Sports and Games," Slughorn informed Harry.

"Horace!" Harry heard someone shout for his professor.

Slughorn turned around to see who was calling him before turning to look down at Harry. "Why don't you talk to Ludo here for a moment, while I go meet some important men, Harry. I'm sure you wouldn't mind a few tips for your next weekend game Harry."

"Of course, sir," Harry replied.

"And Ludo, don't fill his mind with too much Quidditch, he needs to concentrate on his studies too," Slughorn said jovially.

"You can never fill someone's mind with too much Quidditch, Horace," Ludo retorted good-naturedly.

And with that Slughorn left Harry and Ludo to go and greet his other guests.

"So, Harry," Ludo started. Harry turned his head from where he was trying to look for Terence and Tonks with little success to the man standing in front of him. "What do you play?"

"I'm Chaser, sir. I don't play the House Quidditch, of course. First years can't play. But I go to these weekly matches."

"A chaser, I'd have put you for a seeker. You're short and small," he said, looking Harry up and down, to Harry's resentment, "yeah, I'd bet you for a seeker. You'd be devastating as one," he said passionately.

Harry frowned. Okay, maybe he was short for an eleven year old kid and most of the boys and even some of the girls were taller than him, but he wasn't a midget or something. He hated it when somebody pointed out his short height.

"You must be very good though," continued Ludo, giving no thought to Harry's irate face, "I never got an invite to play till I was in my third year, when I was at Hogwarts. A first year playing is almost unheard of."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry politely, forgoing his irritation, before asking, "What was it like playing for the Wasps, sir"

"Ah!" and it seemed that Harry had asked Ludo's favourite question as the man regaled tale after tale of Quidditch incidents during his time at Wasps.

**O**

Harry shook his head. He still couldn't fathom someone trying to kick a Bludger, physically kick a Bludger, to stop the opposing Seeker from catching the snitch. He asked, "Did it hurt a lot?"

Bagman shrugged cheerfully, "I shattered my legs. But the important thing Harry is that we won against the Appleby Arrows."

Looking at his broken nose, Harry wondered what other body part the man had used against Bludgers.

"So Harry, ever thought about playing professionally after school," Ludo queried.

"Not really, Mr. Bagman, I mean Ludo," said Harry, calling the man by his name after being chided for calling him _sir._ "I haven't really thought about it."

"Well of course you haven't. You're just a first year and there's six more years left for you. But it never hurts to think early, does it and keeping an option open for yourself."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He had never really given a single thought to what he would like do later on in his life. He'd have to do something after all, since, he was quite sure Uncle Vernon would throw him out the moment he reached his majority. He wondered what Wizards took up as professions. He had heard of a few of course, like Terence and Tonks would be working for the Ministry as Aurors and he knew a few of his classmates had parents who worked for the Ministry. But there had to be a whole bunch of professions one could take up after school other than working for the Ministry. He resolved to ask Terence about it.

"Ever seen a match of Quidditch, Harry," Ludo asked suddenly.

"Err ... yes," replied Harry confused at the odd question. Of course he'd seen Quidditch matches, he'd played Quidditch matches. "I went to the last Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game. We won too."

"Ah, not amateur games! I'm talking about real Quidditch, professional matches."

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry in realisation. "No, I'm afraid not. I've never been to one."

"You must then. You haven't seen Quidditch if you haven't seen a professional one."

"Well, I never had the opportunity to go," replied Harry morosely. Harry really wished he'd grown up in the Wizarding world. It was just so exciting there.

"That's not good, that's not good at all," said Ludo shaking his head before continuing cheerfully, "anytime you want to go Harry, any match you want to see, just write to me."

Harry's mouth hung open. "Thank you, Ludo!" he exclaimed. "Thank you so very much." It was great, he could go to any match he wanted to see. "That is really generous of you."

"No problem at all, Harry, no problem at all," replied Ludo, smiling widely.

Ludo took out a golden clock piece from inside his breast pocket and checked the time.

"Merlin! It's getting late, I better get going. Harry, it was pleasure talking to you and remember write anytime you want a ticket to a Quidditch match, Merlin only knows I get more free ones than I know what to do with."

"It was nice talking to you too, Ludo," said Harry politely, still giddy at the kind and generous offer.

"Ah! There you are, Harry. Where do you keep disappearing to, I was looking for you, you know."

Harry tuned to see his professor standing behind him looking slightly out of breath.

"Horace, I must leave, I really need to get back to the Ministry," Ludo informed Slughorn with a tired sigh.

"This late?" asked Slughorn surprised.

"Yes, I'm afraid the World Cup is being very demanding."

"The World Cup doesn't start for another three years," replied Horace astounded.

"Yes, but England is hosting the Cup after such a long time that people are saying that we won't be able to handle it. Completely false, but Fudge you know get's jumpy at everything. He has asked us to start preparing from right now. He really doesn't want to lose to Japan or France. And Japan has already built this massive stadium for such competitions and Fudge wants us to out do it. I don't know how we're going to do that," he said shaking his head.

"I need to go back and look over the provisions for the foreigners. Old Barty has been asking for it. France and Ireland wants to know if we would be able to adequately accommodate their people. They're just looking for an excuse to shift the Tournament from England."

Slughorn nodded. "Well, you must make sure that they don't."

"Of course, Horace. I will see you later then," said Ludo before turning to Harry.

"Goodbye, Harry," Bagman said and left for the Ministry.

Harry turned to ask Slughorn what World Cup Ludo was talking about, but Slughorn interrupted him and said, "There is a man who would like to meet you Harry. Come."

And with that Slughorn turned around asking Harry to follow behind him. Harry sighed; he was really getting tired of meeting all these people. He had lost count how many he'd been introduced to tonight. Sure, it had at first felt great, the Dursley's after all never even talked about his presence to the guests, forget introducing him, but here everyone wanted to talk to him. But it was really getting annoying the more it continued.

"This Harry is George Williamson, he is an Auror with the Ministry," Slughorn suddenly announced.

"Huh!" said Harry. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even seen the man in front of him.

"George Williamson, Mr. Potter," the man said charmingly and gripped his hand in a strong handshake. The man looked strong too. His bulky robes did not hide the bulging muscles of his arms. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. I wanted to thank you for greatly lowering the burden of our work."

"I don't understand," said Harry, confused.

"You defeated You-Know-Who, didn't you?" Williamson asked.

"Oh that, yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Well, there you go then."

"Harry! Harry!" He heard someone call him and turned to see that Slughorn had already left him to go talk to someone else. It was Terence who was shouting for him as he walked briskly towards them.

"Terence," called out the Auror standing beside Harry.

"George, what're you doing here?" Terence asked surprised.

"Slughorn's invitation and I was anxious to meet the Boy-Who-Lived," George said pointing towards him. Harry smiled politely.

Terence nodded before turning to Harry. "Well, Harry, remember the Ravenclaw guy I was talking about. Here he is," he said pointing to George.

"You guys were talking about me," George asked surprised.

"Yeah," Terence answered, "I was just telling Harry what you thought of Snape."

George laughed. "I think Snape is a disgusting piece of human being."

Harry laughed at the insult and said, "Hear! Hear!"

"But he is a good teacher," Williamson finished.

"What!" Harry said at the sudden turn.

"Well, he may be harsh, very harsh, if I recall my final year correctly, but he truly knows his subject." George informed Harry. "I really did learn a lot from him."

Terence looked at Harry as if to say_ I-told-you-so._

"Well, I have to get going," George intervened, "was simply loitering around to meet the Harry Potter," he said smilingly. "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Harry."

Harry smiled and nodded politely.

"Terence, I hear you'll be applying to the Academy," he asked Terence.

Terence gave a sharp nod.

"Well, best of luck then. I'm sure you'll make it."

"Thanks," Terence said.

And with that George left.

Harry turned towards Terence. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes, yes," said Terence turning towards him before crouching down to get to his level, his sharp and serious face lit up with a rare bright smile. "I mean, thank you, Harry. Thank you. I don't know how you did it, but she has agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me. Thank you so very much, Harry," Terrence said, almost gushing.

"Great," Harry said, feeling happy for his friend, "just don't forget your promise after you snog your new girl-friend."

Terence blushed and said, "Shut up, Potter."

"What you don't want to kiss her," Harry asked bemusedly.

Terrence shook his head. "You know you're really turning into a smart aleck. I kinda miss the old Harry that I first met. The one that was naive, polite and obedient."

Harry shrugged before saying, "Yeah, but that old Harry wouldn't have been able to get you your date."

Terence nodded and said, "And I'm very grateful for that."

"You're welcome Terence."

"And ... and I do remember our deal. I will teach you some curses and what not," promised Terrence.

"But right now, I want to invite you to come hunting with me over the summer. I wanted to ask you earlier actually, but it slipped my mind. My uncle, myself and a few friends will be going hunting in the wilds. And I'd be very glad if you came. My uncle personally asked me to invite you actually."

Harry's mouth hung open. He wasn't expecting that. It'd be great if he could leave the Dursley's early. And go on a hunting trip too. That'd be so awesome. But reality soon interjected his day-dreams.

"I don't have any hunting gear or anything. And I—"

"Don't worry about anything, Harry." Terence laughed. "We will take care of everything. Just say yes or no."

"Yes, yes, of course yes," replied Harry laughing.

"Great. Anyway, I gotta go now, Tonks is waiting for me," said Terence standing up.

"Going to snog your girl-friend Higgs," teased Harry.

Terrence knocked his head and said, "Shut up, Potter."

Terence was walking away when Harry called after him.

"Hey! Terrence! You didn't say where we were going."

"Amazon, I think. I asked uncle to take us there," replied Terrence over his shoulder not breaking his stride.

Great. He, Harry Potter was going to Amazon for a hunting trip. It was just so awesome. Uncle Vernon had told Dudley that he was going to take him hunting when he grew a bit old. Well, Harry didn't need to grow old, he was going hunting now.

As Harry turned away and walked towards one of his classmates, Susan Bones, who seemed rather lonely by herself, he wondered how wizards hunted. He didn't know anything about it, actually before today he wasn't he even aware that wizards did hunting. He was sure of one thing though, that whatever wizards did, it had to be more awesome than anything the Muggles came up with.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Alright, got this done. I'm working on the third chapter that should see the end of the first year. Next update will probably be for the _A Story of Hallows and Horcruxes._ Once again no guarantees when it will come. I'm hoping for early January though.

As for the Harry and Draco one-shot, _Fool's Gold_ that was supposed to come up earlier, well, I'm slogged at the editing. When it gets done, I'll post it.

**Acknowledgement:** Thanks to the DLP crowd for their comments.


	3. Terence's Tutoring

**The Potter Politics**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoats Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 3  
Terence's Tutoring**

The room was dark, illuminated by a single torch that gave barley adequate light. A few benches and desks were scattered through the room covered in a layer of dust, though it was cleaned off from some places giving the impression that the room had not been used in a while till recently.

Harry had found the room in one of his many wanderings through the castle. Ever since he had inherited his father's Invisibility Cloak from a mysterious benefactor during the Christmas Holidays, Harry had used it to explore Hogwarts as much as he could, whenever he could. The Invisibility Cloak had been the nicest gift that Harry had received in a myriad bunch of presents other than a small leather book that contained pictures of Harry's parents and their friends from their school-days till their marriage, gifted by none other than Horace Slughorn. For Harry, who never had any Christmas presents before, it had been the best Christmas of his life.

Exploring Hogwarts underneath the Invisibility Cloak made Harry realise, how fascinating Hogwarts was. He had no idea that there were so many hidden passages, secret doors, hidden rooms, areas completely unused by students. Harry had the feeling that he had barely scratched the surface of the many secrets of Hogwarts.

The classroom that he was currently occupying was one of the many unused ones that he'd found scattered throughout Hogwarts. Harry had no idea what the classroom had originally been intended for, given that it was hidden behind a tapestry by a wooden door that mimicked as a stone wall on the outside. It suited his purposes just fine, however.

It was located in the dungeons, close enough from the Slytherin dormitory and out of the way enough that someone wouldn't stumble upon it by chance.

He had taken it over as a place to practice magic. Library was not the most conducive of places for one to practice magic as Madam Pince tended to get rather testy to drawn wands near her precious books, as Pucey could probably attest to. But then again getting into a fight with a Ravenclaw in full view of the librarian was probably not a good idea.

Harry leaned back on a rickety old chair behind the teacher's desk, which was missing one of its legs, broken halfway through. Terence was late; he was supposed to be here half an hour earlier. Harry smirked, he was probably snogging Tonks.

Distractedly flicking his wrist, Harry cast. "_Vercundus!_"

The light brown spell impacted one of the legs of the old desk rattling it violently. A Bludgeoning Curse that Terence had taught him two previous weeks previously. He had been practicing ever since and only now had he managed to pull it off adequately. Harry had to admit it was a pretty nifty curse. Getting hit by it ought to hurt a lot worse than Dudley's punches. He'd after all managed to break one of the legs of the desk, granted it had taken quite a few curses, but still. Terence had told him that the curse's effect was not quite unlike being hit by a Bludger, hence, the name.

Harry wasn't quite satisfied with his progress though. It'd had been months since he had made the deal with Terence and in the meantime he had only managed to pick up exactly one curse, two hexes, one jinx and a shield that he still couldn't cast.

Harry knew that Terence was very busy with his NEWT's, he rarely ever saw him outside of the library. Even in the common room, he was always swamped with huge tomes, parchments and books as he wrote his essays. Higgs had even stopped coming to the weekend matches of Quidditch and Harry often found himself to be rather lonely as he played the game.

And Harry was sure that whatever time was not spent preparing for the NEWT or getting ready for the entrance to the Auror Academy was spent with his new found girl-friend.

So, it wasn't much of a surprise that Terence rarely managed to find time to tutor him.

Of course, Harry himself was rather busy with school-work. With the end of year exams close by, all the teachers had increased the pressure on the students by conducting surprise tests and quizzes. Most of the teachers were revising what they had taught over the year. So, it didn't allow Harry much time to practice what Terence showed him.

_"Vercundus!"_ muttered Harry and spell once again hit the motley desk rattling it.

"Bravo!" Somebody exclaimed and Harry turned to see Terence standing in the doorway clapping.

"I see that you've got it down quite good," said Terence appreciatively.

"You're late." Harry accused.

"I've been busy, Harry, with the NEWTs and everything," Terence said walking into the room.

"Yeah, I know, how's that going by the way?" asked Harry curiously.

"Terrible," Terence replied with a tired sigh.

He sprawled out haphazardly on an old bench, which gave a loud groan to protest against the weight.

"I have this essay that I need to work on from Slughorn detailing the preparation and effects of the Draught of Living Death. And if that wasn't enough, McGonagall wants a five foot essay on full body Human Transfiguration and Flitwick has given us more homework on enchanting," Terence grumbled, shaking his head.

"But enough about that, how are you faring so far?" queried Terence.

Harry gave a sigh. "I've been practicing that _contego_ spell you showed me but I still can't manage to get it to work."

As if to demonstrate, Harry brought his wand forward and with an elegant motion and said, _"Contego!"_

There was a small spark of golden light at the tip of his wand but it fizzled out pretty soon.

"See. It's not working," said Harry morosely.

Terence smiled at him. "You know I was asking about how your exam preparation is going on."

"Oh that. Yeah, yeah, I've been studying hard enough. I'm sure I'll score good marks," said Harry confidently. Slughorn had impressed upon him the need for doing well in his exams.

"Well that's good then."

"So, what're we going to do today?" asked Harry eagerly. "We could work on the Contego Shield," suggested Harry.

"Why do you want to learn it that badly?" asked Terence frowning.

"You know there is going to be a Defence practical," said Harry worriedly.

Terence frowned in confusion before he realized what Harry was driving at.

"No, no, no, Harry," he said laughing, "Snape is not going to curse you during exams."

"How do you know?" asked Harry, looking worried. Snape had been giving those evil glances the past few days that just said that he was going to fail him just because.

"I was a first year too once, Harry," said Terence.

"Yeah, but Snape doesn't hate you, does he?"

"Of course he hates me, he hates everybody. He's Snape, isn't he?"

Harry laughed. Taking pot-shots at Snape was quite common among the students, no matter which House they belonged to.

"Don't worry, Harry. You'll do just fine," Terence told him.

Harry nodded thoughtfully before replying, "Maybe, but I was still hoping to get the shield working."

"It's basic N.E.W.T material, Harry. And you can already do the _protego_, which is damn impressive. You know they don't teach that until the end of your second year, even then you're not expected to cast it properly till your fourth year. I remember that more than half the students in my class couldn't and it's amazing that you got it to work as a first year," said Terence, pride marring his voice.

Harry blushed slightly at Terence's praise but replied, "Yeah, but I'd to practice for a month nearly."

Terence scoffed at him. "I practiced for months as a second year, Harry. Months, before I could so much as get a whisper of that shield working. It's very impressive that you've managed to get it to work so easily. So why are you so eager to learn the Contego Shield?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "but didn't you say that Protego Shield can be broken."

"Any shield can be broken, Harry."

"Yeah but _contego_ is harder to break, right."

Terence sighed at Harry's relentlessness. "Look you already have the incantation and movements down perfectly. All you need to do is practice and concentrate more on the spell and you'll have it working in no time. Read up on the spell in the library if you want to. I've found that it helps my spell-casting if I know a bit about the spell," advised Terence.

Harry nodded his head. "Alright, something else then. How about teaching me that curse that Diggory hit me with?"

"Joint Inversion Jinx?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I've thought of something better actually."

"What?" asked Harry eagerly.

Terence smiled at Harry's eagerness and said, "Ever heard of the stunning spell, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"It's one of the fundamental spells you're required to know for your O.W.L's. You'll learn it come your fifth year, though I think Snape shows it to the second year class as something they will learn eventually," recounted Terence.

Harry nodded and asked, "Yeah, but what does it do?"

"It stuns you," said Terence simply. Seeing the lack of comprehension on Harry's face, Terence clarified. "It knocks out for an hour or so."

"That sounds interesting," said Harry.

"Well let's get started then," said Terence picking himself up from the bench.

Harry jumped off the chair with enthusiasm to learn something new.

"All right, the stunning spell is more difficult than anything you've encountered so far, but I'm sure that you'll be able to master it," said Terence clearly. Harry nodded.

"Alright, look carefully then," said Terence.

He bought his wand out and with exaggerated slowness, he said, "_Stu-pe-fy!_"

A bright red beam of magic broke out of his wand and moved past Harry whistling through the air. Harry whirled around to watch the spell as it crashed against the blackboard creating spider cracks over it which flashed crimson for a moment as the spell lingered before fading into nothingness.

"That's it," said Harry. He was expecting something more, perhaps a bit like the Bludgeoning Curse.

Terence glared at Harry for a moment before bringing his wand in front of him with a speed that defied thought, Harry's eyes widened and he fumbled with his wand, the syllable of the Shield Charm barely through his lips before a red bolt slammed into his chest staggering him into the chair unconscious.

**O**

"Argh!" groaned Harry, as he lifted his head, before shaking it to rid himself of the cob-webs. As he became conscious he realized that he was lying on the chair that he'd been occupying earlier in a very awkward manner, his head slumped on the seat and his lower body sprawled out on the floor.

"You okay," asked Terence, his face peering over Harry in concern.

"Yeah," muttered Harry, before the memory of how he came into this position replayed in his mind. "You," he shouted pushing Terence back with his arm before standing up with a grunt using the chair's arm as a support.

"Why did you that?" asked Harry angrily.

Terence shrugged. "You needed to know what the spell does," he replied calmly, as though cursing people unconscious was a common enough phenomenon. "And expect Snape to do the same when you're in your second year. He enjoys teaching by giving a first-hand experience."

Harry still looked a bit angry but relented somewhat. "Alright, show it to me again before I curse you."

"You can try to Harry," replied Terence mockingly.

Harry's eye narrowed at the challenge and he whipped his wand forward, even as he said, _"Vercundus!"_

The light brown spell shot off his wand and moved rapidly towards Terence, who took a step backward and snapped his wand at the oncoming spell, hitting it diagonally with its tip, shoving the curse completely out off its intended path and into the ceiling of the classroom where it impacted with a dull groan, shaking loose years of grime and dust on top of Terence.

"Whoa!" said Harry in amazement; he hadn't seen anything like that. Even shields, at least the ones that he had seen, didn't quite work like that.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked Terence, who was combing his head of the dirt that had settled in his hair.

"Do what?" asked Terence abstractedly, as he began patting down his robes to shake off the dirt, before looking up at Harry.

"This," said Harry, before once again incanting the Bludgeoning Curse towards Terence's stomach.

"Harry!" exclaimed Terence with irritation as the curse zoomed off towards him and once again before it could strike him, he batted the spell away with his wand which ended up hitting the bench that Terence had been occupying earlier, violently rattling it.

"Yeah that," said Harry excitedly, "the thing that you just did."

"You just waved your wand like this," said Harry, brandishing his own wand and waving it in a manner akin to Terence, "and the curse just moved away, just like that."

"Not quite, Harry," said Terence in amusement to Harry's wonder. "I deflected the curse with my wand. It's called _parrying_."

"Okay," said Harry, nodding his head, "when do I get to learn that."

"Not anytime soon, I'm afraid."

"Why not?" asked Harry, dismayed.

"Parrying is a difficult art, Harry. It's not magic like you've seen done before. You'll learn some basic hex deflection in your defence class but actual parrying is not taught at Hogwarts," stated Terence.

"What? Where did you learn it then?"

"My uncle hired me a teacher during summer vacations when I first told him that I wanted to be an Auror."

"Wow! That's nice. Your uncle sounds like a great guy."

Terence eyes crinkled and he said tightly, "Oh yes, yes, he is."

Harry frowned but foraged ahead. "So, when can you teach it to me?"

Terence laughed. "Always so eager to learn something new, Harry. I'm surprised that the Hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw."

"Well, it did say that I didn't have a bad mind but that I'd do well in Slytherin," stated Harry. "Enough about that, so, can you teach me this, err …, _parrying_ thing?"

"Afraid not, Harry. You still have plenty to learn before you can manage to go that far. Let's just get started with the Stunner."

Harry slouched in disappointment but relented. "Alright then. What was the incantation, _Stubefi_ or something?"

"_Stu-pe-fy_, Harry," said Terence slowly.

"Right, _stupefy,_" said Harry, "got it."

"Why don't you give it a try then," said Terence encouragingly.

Harry nodded and brought forward his wand to point at one of the odd benches in the classroom and said, _"Stupefy!"_

Nothing happened. No flash of crimson, no jet of red light, not even a spark. Harry turned to look at Terence.

The older boy moved over to Harry and grasped his wand wielding hand.

"Ow! Ow!" cried Harry in pain as Terence forcibly twisted his wrist in rather uncomfortable position.

"That's the proper posture your wrist should have," said Terence, once he was satisfied that Harry was holding the wand correctly. "And the incantation isn't stupefy, Harry," said Terence mimicking the way Harry had muttered the spell. "It's _Stu-pee-fi_. The first syllable is short and fast, the end of the second is strong, so deliberate on that and the third is _fi_ not _fee_."

Terence let go of his arm and him motioned him to try again.

Harry did but failed to yield any results.

"Deliberate on the _e_, Harry," advised Terence.

"Is there any need for incantation to be exactly accurate? It should work even if I bungle it up a bit, shouldn't it?" said Harry irritably. One of the many reasons other than Terence's own lack of free time which was behind his slow progress was that, Terence always insisted that Harry perfect his wand movements and his diction.

"No, you don't need it to be perfect. But you'll never master the spell if you don't bother to get the incantation and movements properly. It's better that you perfect all the spells that you learn from right now instead of growing up learning it the wrong way and then be forced to go back and relearn all the stuff that you'd learned earlier," said Terence.

"Trust me, I'd know," said Terence, "The teacher that my uncle hired spent more time correcting my messed up spells than any useful stuff. And I assure you Harry, he wasn't kind enough to grasp my wrist and correct my movements. His methods were painful, to say the least"

Harry nodded. It made sense. It was after all best to learn things properly, even if it meant that he had a slow progress. He couldn't be a good wizard if he only learnt to cast bungled up spells. He resolved to put more effort in making his spell-casting precise and accurate.

And with that vow to himself, Harry tried the Stunning Spell again, but once again encountered failure as his wand failed to respond.

"I keep telling you, Harry," said Terence irritably, "move your wrists not your arm. Always move your wrists, never your arm. I know it's more difficult but eventually you'll find it easier to cast spells and it's also faster that way. Other than that you seem to have gotten it. Read a bit about the Stunning Charms and keep practicing and it'll work soon."

Harry nodded.

"I guess that'll enough for today," said Terence.

"We're done," said Harry surprised, "but I haven't even managed to get it to work yet. Not even a tiny flash."

"It's a difficult spell, Harry. It'll take time but I'm sure you'll manage it. That and I've a bunch of pending essays that I need to work on."

"Oh, that's alright then, I guess. I need to meet up with a few friends too in the library; we were going to do some Transfiguration revision."

Together they quietly walked over to the door of the classroom; Harry held it open, allowing Terence to walk out first. Before moving out himself, shoving aside the handing tapestry in front of him that hid the doorway, closing the door-cum-wall behind him.

Harry draped the tapestry back into its proper place giving no indication that there was a door behind it. The door-cum-wall wouldn't open unless someone happened to knock on it politely. It was a bit an accident that Harry had found the classroom in the first place.

Terence suddenly said, "Harry, I won't be able to do anymore of this tutoring sessions. I'm just way too busy with NEWT's and the entrance. I'm hardly finding time."

Harry look up at older boy gloomily, he wasn't surprised; he had seen after all the kind of pressure that Terence seemed to be handling. Head Boy duties, NEWT's, Auror entrance and House Quidditch practice, it was a surprise that he had even managed to find time for Harry so far. But while he wasn't surprised didn't mean that he wasn't a bit sad. These days he only ever managed to talk to Terence when they met for their tutoring sessions twice a month. The older boy had even stopped coming to Slug club-meets and weekend Quidditch games had long since been abandoned.

Harry said somewhat morosely, "It's alright. I know you're really busy with stuff and everything. And thanks for teaching me and everything."

"It was a pleasure to teach you, Harry. I've to say that I have never seen anyone so, so, eager to learn magic."

"I grew up as a Muggle, Terence. I find magic fascinating."

"Yeah, so do I and I've Muggle-born friends who do too. But not quite like you," said Terence shaking his head. "Nonetheless, it was a pleasure teaching you, Harry."

"Thank you. I gotta go though. My friends are waiting in the library," Harry told Terence, pointing backwards with his thumb vaguely towards the library. Terence gave a brief nod and Harry turned around, jogging away down the length of the long corridor.

"Don't be out too late. It's only an hour till the curfew. I'll have to give you detention otherwise," shouted out Terence from behind to Harry's ringing laughter.

**O**

"Sorry guys, I'm late. I got stuck," muttered Harry wheezing. He'd practically run all the way from the dungeons to the library, realising just how late he was for their study club.

"You always get stuck somewhere, Harry," muttered Ernie. "You should be more punctual," he said pompously.

Harry rolled his eyes and was about to retort when Susan interrupted. "It's alright, Harry. Just grab a seat," Susan said good-naturedly.

Harry smiled at the blond girl and sat down by her side.

He gave a quick glance around the moderately large, oval table in the library. Everyone had come. Ernie was there, but he always came, he was very punctual that way and believed in the need for needling others who did not follow his perfect timetable. Susan Bones, Harry's good friend from defence was there. Hannah Abbot, Susan's friend was there too, but that was hardly surprising, Harry rarely ever saw one without the other. Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchey were the last two members of their cosy little study group.

From what Susan had told him, the group originally only had her, Hannah, Ernie and Terry. Terry's presence was surprising in what was a 'puff study group, if not for the fact that he'd sat with Susan and Hannah during the train ride and had become fast friends with the two. He was a Muggle-born and didn't really have any friends in his own house, which was why he had joined up in the first place.

Justin Finch-Fletchey was a recent addition, having joined after Harry.

Harry himself had joined the study club when Susan had invited him to come during the Slughorn's Christmas Eve party. Apparently, they needed someone to help them out with Potions and since he was quite adept in the subject, she had asked him to join them for exam cramming.

Harry had to admit, it was quite lucky that she had offered him to join them for studying. He had made plenty of progress on his school work with them and studying with others gave him less of an excuse to shove aside boring magical theories and work on something interesting, like actual magic. It was also helpful having a bunch of friends his year with whom he could talk. Terence was rarely available outside Quidditch games and Slug club meets, when he used to come, and despite Professor Slughorn's helpful attitude, Harry did not feel comfortable going to his Head of House for the silliest of stuff.

"We're doing Potions revision, Harry. Did you bring your notes?" asked Ernie.

Harry blinked; he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Ernie call for him.

"Err ... what?" asked Harry.

"Your notes, Harry. Did you bring them?" asked Ernie again, looking slightly annoyed.

Harry blinked a few times. His backpack. He had forgotten it in the dormitory. He had been so excited to meet Terence for their class together; he'd simply forgotten to bring his backpack

"Oh damn," muttered Harry softly.

"C'mon, Harry, you're late and then you forget your notes. You should be more careful with your stuff," lectured Ernie.

Harry glared at the boy. He disliked Ernie, what with his tendency to give annoying lectures every now and then about punctuality and discipline.

"I'll go get it," muttered Harry darkly.

He was about to get up, when Susan grabbed his hand. "It's alright, Harry. No problem."

Harry sat back down. There was a shuffling sound as everybody gathered their class notes. Harry quickly spied Ernie's to realise that they were doing Potion's revision. Was it Potions revision they wanted him to do? He knew most of the stuff verbatim anyway. Perhaps even better than the books. Given the amount of time he spent with Slughorn every other week, it was hard not to.

The professor tended to hint at rather clever useful tips and tricks not covered in the course books that proved to be quite useful in the actual brewing process. It wasn't exactly partiality, as Slughorn never exactly told him anything extra that he did not cover in class, just some helpful hints about which books he should check out from library. It always took Harry quite a bit of time to decipher the professor's oblique hints, but they always turned out to be quite useful in nature. Of course, Slughorn was always willing to answer any direct question that Harry brought to the teacher's notice.

"We're doing Potions. I thought we're supposed to do Transfiguration," said Harry looking around the small group.

Hannah shrugged. "You were late. We already did Transfiguration, Harry," she said politely.

"Damn," muttered Harry. "I don't need Potions. I'm already done with that."

Ernie opened his mouth to say something; probably to admonish him once again for not keeping the time properly, but Susan beat him to it.

"The two of us can go over Transfiguration again, if you want," she said helpfully. "As long as you promise to go over some Potions with me later."

"Yeah sure and thanks, Susan," said Harry to the blond girl.

"I'll go over Transfiguration with you guys too," Terry spoke up.

"Great then, let's get started," said Harry.

Hannah shifted over taking Terry's place while the boy came to sit down beside Susan. She brought out her notes on Transfiguration and opened them in front of the three of them.

Harry groaned looking at the sight of complex models of transfiguration theory depicting the transfiguration of organic into in-organic. Terry gave a similar groan, while Susan giggled at their reaction.

Transfiguration models were something that Harry absolutely detested. The actual transfiguration was difficult as it was, but at least it was interesting and while Harry had managed to find a foothold in the practical aspects of the subject, the complex models always made his head spin.

He wondered if the comparatively simple models of transfiguring a match stick, an organic material into a metal pin, in-organic substance was so complex, what it was going to be like when he finally got around to doing non-living to living transfiguration.

Harry shook his head; he'll deal with that when he came to it, for now he needed to pass first year transfiguration. And that meant understanding the complicated model in front of him and remembering it by-heart.

As Susan began explain the model quietly beside him, Boot and Harry closed in slightly to hear her properly, Harry doing his best to memorise all the complicated symbols and theories that Susan was reiterating.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Alright, got this done, pretty fast. Think of it as Christmas gift to all of my readers. The first year was supposed to get done by this chapter. But I am thinking about another chapter to properly wrap around the first year, before we start with the second year and the promised hunting trip with Terence, where stuff really starts happening.

Next update will either be a new story _The Duellist_ or an update for _A Story of Hallows and Horcruxes. _Should come in January, but once again no promises. I have found that I am more likely to update my stories faster if I don't give an exact date for updates.

And guys please review. It hardly takes a lot of time or effort. A simple _I like it_ or _I don't like it_ goes a long way, it tells me how I'm doing with the plot and execution. A review is the least that you can do for an author.

**Acknowledgement:** Thanks to the DLP crowd for their comments on the draft.


	4. Snape's Retaliation

**The Potter Politics**

* * *

**Disclaimer:**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoats Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 4  
Snape's Retaliation**

The solution was a light pink. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It had been close, his decision to dilute the Forgetfulness Solution was a brave one, but it seemed to have paid of spectacularly. He quickly took a glance at the question sheet of his first year final Potions exam that he'd attached to his work area. It required him to brew a Forgetfulness Potion whose effects would last for an hour at most.

A quick jab of his wand and a muttered Extinguishing Charm later the flame that was gently heating the potion had been snuffed out. He allowed the potion to cool off for a while and turned his attention back to the Boil Cure Potion. The grey coloured mixture was bubbling softly. Harry grabbed the powdered snake fangs and extinguished the fire lighting the potion and immediately started adding the snake fangs into the potion while continuously stirring the mixture.

The Boil Cure Potion turned a proper off-white colour and Harry re-lit the fire allowing the potion to properly mix with the new ingredient, all the time stirring the potion ever so gently. Harry understood now what mistake he'd made in his first ever Potions class. He'd added the powdered snake fangs at a single go before resorting to stir the potion, for that is what the step had demanded. This, however, did not allow the mixture to react properly with the new ingredient, causing the formation of granularity in the potion, instead of the fine texture that it should maintain. It was easily rectified by adding the powdered snake fangs in the potion while stirring it at the same time.

This wasn't the exact proper method and it did make the potion lose its potency marginally. However, the amount of safety guaranteed in this procedure was significantly higher than the proper way of increasing the temperature of the potion prior to adding the new element. It was well and good, if not for the fact that the solution at such a mid-level stage tended to react rather violently with powdered snake fangs if one couldn't estimate the proper temperature accurately, which was the reason after all that powdered snake fangs were added only after removing the potion vat from the fire.

None of the books mentioned it though; the only reason Harry knew was that he had asked Slughorn why the potion he'd brewed at the very first class had not been perfect.

He took a step back from the two vats of potion. The Forgetfulness Potion was cooling off and would require another few minutes of being in room temperature before being considered well enough for congestion. Potions that dealt with the intricacies of mind were always the hardest to make, but Harry had to admit he had done rather well with both the potions, both of which had been successfully brewed better than how he had done in the classroom. Slughorn would be proud.

Speaking of the professor, Harry looked up from his work table to look around for Slughorn. His Head of House was at the moment talking to a rather nervous Ravenclaw, Mandy Brocklehust or _something._ He didn't know the girl's exact name.

Harry took a quick glance around the large room. It wasn't their regular classroom but a special room reserved for exams. It made sense after all; their normal classroom would not fit all the first year students from different houses.

He stood on his tip-toes, slightly miffed that he wasn't tall enough to survey the classroom fully, and looked over to what his fellow classmates had made. Quickly espying the bushy haired Granger girl, who was industriously working over her potions, her mane growing wilder and bushier by the minute, Harry noticed that her Boil Cure Potion had been very similar to his, but he believed that his had achieved better consistency. But from the distance he could have very well been mistaken. Her Forgetfulness Potion had not fared better though, at least not better than his. It looked far too dark for the amount of potency that was requisite for the exam.

He glanced over to Zabini's potion, which was just beside his. Same condition, Harry noted. Blaise had managed a near perfect Boil Cure Potion, just like him but his Forgetfulness Potion was a bit too thick. The drinker was likely to forget his own name and not just the events of a one-hour period. Harry smirked; Zabini wouldn't be taking the prize that Professor Slughorn had promised the first years would be given to the student, who did the best on their final potions exam.

Harry flicked his eyes over the rest of his classmates. Most had managed a decent work in the both potions, though Longbottom's Forgetfulness Potion looked like a mess. He seemed to have managed a decent work in the Boil Cure Potion though. Harry thought the boy looked somewhat glad and considering his lack of ability with potions, he had to admit, the boy had every reason to be proud of getting his Boil Cure Potion correct.

It seemed to be the staple, most had gotten the Boil Cure Potion quite correctly; the Forgetfulness Potion though was brewed in varying degrees of competency among the various students.

Malfoy seemed to have done a decent job throughout with both the Potions, and was letting the Forgetfulness Potion time to cool. Draco took a step back and looked up, his eyes fell straight on Harry, Malfoy looked for a second before giving him an arrogant smile. Harry had no doubt that Malfoy believed that he'd get the best potion in.

_We'll see about that._

It wasn't that Harry hated Malfoy or anything, they'd a fairly cordial relationship. Draco had even extended a hand of friendship early in the term. But perhaps it was Harry's exceedingly good relationship with Slughorn or his entry into the weekly Quidditch matches, they had noticeably cooled off. It was just that the arrogant twit reminded Harry very strongly of his cousin. Harry was quite sure though that Draco would take it as an offence if he ever told him of the comparison, what with his distaste of Muggles.

Harry looked back at Professor Slughorn who seemed to be done with the Ravenclaws and was now starting with Hufflepuffs. Ernie MacMillan did not look very confident as the professor seemed to be asking him questions. His wringing hands and the nervous face told Harry that the viva-voce was not going too well.

Harry shook his head and looked back at his potion. The Forgetfulness Potion was done. He carefully dipped a phial into the vat of solution and filled it with the potion. Harry neatly labelled it with his name, year and house to be submitted to the professor.

Harry turned his attention back to the Boil Cure Potion. He had done a good job overall, it was near perfect. He stirred the now cold potion a few more times, to ensure an equivalent consistency before following the same steps and neatly bottling it.

He was done. Harry had to admit, much of his exponentially increasing skill in Potions was in due to no small effort by his Head of House. The professor was always generous with his help. And Harry tried his best to utilise them to his utmost capability. They allowed him to subvert the traditional instructions that the course books followed with subtle changes that allowed for better and sometimes quicker results. They didn't always work the best and few mishaps and an accidentally blown cauldron after, Harry took to showing Slughorn his modified list of instructions before actually trying it out himself. Slughorn actually insisted that Harry did this, as apparently potion incidents could be rather dangerous. Harry did feel at first that it was a bit wrong that he was getting some extra help with his subject, but he quickly allayed his fears when he came to learn that most pure-blood students had had some sort of magical tuition before they entered Hogwarts. And that it was hardly uncommon for Heads of Houses to give extra help to their students, particularly the Muggle-born's. And Harry even if he wasn't a Muggle-born, he was still Muggle raised.

He put the potion vial down and sat back on the short round stool that had been provided for each the students forgoing the benches that Harry was used to in regular class, waiting for the professor to be done with the other students before his turn for the quiz.

Overall, Harry reflected his final year exams had gone extremely well and he was hoping to secure the top marks in Potions. He only had the Defence and Transfiguration practical left and he was sure enough to do well in them. He was somewhat apprehensive about the Defence exam and had approached a Slytherin senior, Adrian Pucey for information on exactly what the practical's entailed. His answer had put Harry's fear to rest. All Snape ever asked in the exams were demonstrations for the hexes and jinxes that they had learned in class. And given the inordinate amount of time he had spent practicing them, Harry was sure that he'd easily clear the exam.

"Impressive Harry, most impressive."

His professor's sudden voice startled Harry.

Harry turned around and looked at his Head of House who was looking at the potions carefully. Slughorn waddled slightly closer to the vats, peering into the potions. He took a small ladle from Harry's table and put it deep into the Forgetfulness Solution and stirred the potion very gently. He then took out the ladle filled with potion before carefully pouring down the potion back into the vat, all the time watching the contours of the potion with a sharp eye.

Harry assumed that the professor was checking the consistency of the potion.

"Very Good, Mr. Potter. The potion is almost near perfect but I am most surprised that you were able to determine the concentration that would be requisite for an hour period. Explain the process that you followed."

Harry began to recite the instructions that he had employed.

"You diluted it?" Slughorn interrupted Harry, when he mentioned that he'd lowered the potency with dilution. "Why in the name of Merlin would you do that?"

"Well, sir, I was supposed to brew a Forgetfulness Potion that acted by removing an hour of the drinker's memory. What I'd produced at first was likely to remove his entire day's. I thought lowering the potency would be the best."

"Dilution is not done for Memory Potions, Harry. They're made in such a manner that you get the requisite concentration right from the start."

"Well sir, I wasn't able make the correct estimate for the amount of ingredient it would require for the proper concentration."

"Describe how you diluted the potion?"

"I added some Jobberknoll feathers in a potion vat and distilled it, after which I added the essence into the forgetfulness potion."

"That was a very brave move", said Slughorn slowly, "I was half-expecting you to put the potion to simmer and just add water to it get the required colour."

"Of course not, sir, directly adding water would simply counter the already present dilute nitric acid in it, making it too dull to act properly for a Forgetfulness potion. By distilling the feathers I was able to counter the influence and get a forgetfulness solution that was within the required limit of potency."

Slughorn smiled. "A most unconventional technique. You're quite correct. Given that you were able to do it properly, essence of the Jobberknoll 'sfeathers would definitely counter the forgetfulness potion's actions. Jobberknoll feathers, of course, as you already know are used for memory retention draughts."

"Your potion would be quite unstable though given the conflicting ingredients, but it would act within the necessary time frame, yes," continued Slughorn.

"Well, that'd be all, Harry. Just put the potion vials on my desk."

Slughorn made a scratch on the paper that he was carrying around in his clipboard.

Harry assumed that it was probably his scores.

With the beating of his heart somewhat slowing down, Harry gently picked up his potion vials and submitted them on the teachers desk before going back to his work place and packing in his potion making kit.

**O**

"Shit, nobody said that you'd to make two potions together."

"Yeah, it was pretty difficult."

"Did you remember all the ingredients for the Forgetfulness one?"

"I think I missed one."

Harry quietly cut through the throng of students slowly moving out of the large examination room and went straight to his 'puff friends who had gathered around outside.

"Oh! Here comes Harry," Susan said brightly when she saw him moving towards them.

"How did it go?" Harry asked immediately.

"Terrible," said Hannah, her normally cheerful face completely morose.

Justin simply shook his head in misery.

"I got the Boil Cure to work and answered his viva. Though am not sure if I gave correct answers," Susan said, "I'm sure I'll pass, but grades aren't going to be good. Auntie won't happy; she said I'd to get good marks in all my exams."

Harry nodded and said, "Don't worry, most people did not get the Forgetfulness solution correctly and I'm sure you gave the correct answers. You'll definitely clear it with good marks."

Susan smiled brightly at Harry's reassurance.

"What about you Ernie?"

"What d'you care? I'm sure you did great being Slughorn's wonder boy and what not."

Harry was slightly flabbergasted. "What!"

"Take that back," said Hannah angrily.

"Shut up Ernie!" Justin retorted to Ernie's vitriol. "Just because you didn't do too well doesn't mean Harry shouldn't be doing well either."

Ernie scoffed at them and turned around walking away from them.

"What's his problem?" Harry asked, still rather taken-aback at Ernie's sudden burst of anger.

"He wants to get into Slug club," said Justin.

"Whatever for?" queried Harry.

"Summerby, he is a—" Justin began.

"I know Summerby, we play Quidditch together," said Harry. "What about him?"

"Well, he was just talking in the common the room the other day, about how he'd to get in to Slug club, because y'know if you've any ambition, if you want to be counted as being someone than you've to get in. Well, Ernie just took it too seriously thinking he wouldn't be able to do anything if he can't even get into a club. And you know how competitive he is."

"I wish he could take my place. I really don't want to go to those stupid meets. Nobody even talks to me. I'm the only 'puff first year, y'know. But auntie says it's important that I meet other people and get to know them. Well, hard to know if they won't even bother talking to me," Susan grouched.

"Why won't they talk to you?" Hannah asked surprised.

"I'm just a first year. Nobody bothers with a first year."

"Hey! I talk to you and I'm first year too," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah you do, but you're always so busy with the professor."

"You know, Ernie is just being stupid. It wasn't even that he did that bad in his exam. I mean he definitely did better than me. Only thing he got wrong was his viva," Hannah assured Harry.

"Ernie wanted to impress Slughorn. He was peeved that he wasn't able to," Justin piped up.

"Why is he so hard-arsed about everything?" queried Harry, somewhat miffed at Ernie's attitude.

"Ernie's family is a bit, ah …" Susan began looking some-what uncomfortable.

"What!"

"It's a long story. And not really my place to say."

Harry shrugged. "If you say so." Harry didn't really care what Ernie thought about him.

"And the thing is my exam really didn't go that well. Slughorn said my Forgetfulness potion was too unstable," explained Harry.

"Why did he have to put two potions together?" Hannah asked.

"Probably checking our concentration," Harry answered. "Say, where is Tony."

"Oh! He went straight for the library. Its transfiguration tomorrow and he had to revise."

"Speaking of which, we need to do the same. I really need to go over the models again."

"Let's get something to eat first."

The two girls quickly agreed to get lunch too and the four first years made their way to the Great Hall.

**O**

Harry took a deep breath and released it shortly. He took another, held it for a moment and let it go. Transfiguration was all about controlling your mind, lest he allow some tertiary thoughts to disturb his magic and ruin his transfiguration.

Harry sat in front of Professor McGonagall, for his final year Transfiguration test. The exam had not started too good, what with him mixing up models for organic and non-organic transmutation. He'd been able to answer the rest of the simple viva-voce, but he knew well enough that the models carried good marks with them, and him not getting that right was not doing him any favour.

However, the practical's were what mattered the most. If he could get it right, then he was sure that he'd pass with good marks.

In front of him was a small glass ball, a silver spoon and a chalk piece.

He was supposed to transfigure the glass orb into a golden snitch. Not a functional one, McGonagall had said, but one that looked and felt like a real one.

That was where the problem laid. Harry had never done such kind of transfiguration before; sure he'd practiced what he had been taught in the classroom many a times. He knew how to transfigure a match stick into a needle and re-transfigure it, he knew how to do transfigure a spoon into a peacock quill and reverse it. But none of the transfigurations that were asked of him had been taught in class.

In retrospect, Harry supposed it wasn't that big of a surprise, they were after all not going to do the same transfiguration in exam that they'd done in class multiple times but given something new to test their skill and understanding of the subject. And it wasn't supposed to be all that difficult, Harry told himself. Technically, the transmutation of a base material was same despite disparity in pre-transfigured and the transfigured object.

As such, it shouldn't matter at all whether he was transfiguring a silver needle into a match stick or a silver spoon into a wooden knife; as long as the underline element was same they were essentially doing the same magic just moulding the material differently. McGonagall had deliberated on it enough in her classes for him to become it second nature. He was, however, still nervous.

Harry took another deep breath, and slowly exhaled it. McGonagall was patient, she had not asked him to hurry up and that there were other students waiting outside waiting for their turn. She had told him to take his time and do it properly.

Harry gave slight shake of his mind, to clear his mind. It was not easy to focus his mind to a singularity. If he told himself, he wouldn't think of anything else other than the glass ball in front of him, his mind would automatically conjure up images and thoughts disturbing the serene mental state that he was supposed to achieve.

Harry looked at the glass ball intently, looking at its contours, the way it broke the light of the torches as it fell on its surfaces. He picked it up from the bench once feeling its weight, allowing it roll over his palm, feeling its smoothness, its traction.

Once he was sure that he knew the glass ball as well as he could, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the glass ball in the void of his mind, floating in a vast expanse of darkness lit from within exactly as the ball itself had broken the light when he had looked at it a few moments earlier.

Harry lifted his wand and with an elegant fluid motion, he waved his wand over the crystal ball, his eyes still closed as he imagined within the vista of his mind the glass ball mutating. The colours jumbled up together and became harder until the red and yellow of the glow of the ball had changed into solid golden; the texture became more firm and unyielding losing the slipperiness previously it possessed and allowing more friction. Two small cracks appeared in the glass ball on either side of it, before they gently unfolded to give the impression of wings. The wings itself mutated from crystal glass to solid golden, even as indentions became more prominent.

Harry finally opened his eyes; in front of him lay the snitch that he'd crafted. It, however, wasn't the exact piece of his envisage. The snitch was too shiny, the colour not quite golden but a glowing yellow, the indentions uneven and the texture not quite uniform. And Harry could tell that the weight would be off without even picking it up, he had forgotten about the making the crystal ball more compact. And worst of all the wings had not even been transfigured. Sure, there were wings as there is supposed to be on a snitch, but they were still made of crystal glass; granted the colour of the glass had changed into yellow, but they were still glass and not the same material as the rest of the snitch.

Harry gave a tiny sigh and looked up at McGonagall sitting opposite him.

She gave him a curt nod and said, "Continue, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and looked at the silver spoon that he was supposed to transfigure into a knife. He followed the same procedure that he had for the snitch, but vigilantly so. He was not going to make another mistake.

As he waved his wand over the spoon, he willed the image he'd formed in his mind of the silver spoon to melt slowly, transforming, as it slowly progressed. A wooden hilt appeared with the molten silver attached to it, which started to morph into a thin doubly-edged blade. Harry concentrated within himself to make sure that the wooden hilt was strong with a proper grip and that the attached knife had a sharpened edge to it, truly believing within himself that the spoon kept in front of him was also changing its form just as the image was morphing in his mind.

He gently opened his eyes and saw that the erstwhile piece of spoon was now a wickedly sharp looking knife, with a wooden hilt and a fine double edged silver blade.

He allowed himself a small smile; the transfiguration had gone much better than the previous one.

He looked up at the professor in front of him and she nodded towards him slightly and said, "Very good, Mr. Potter, the next one if you can."

Harry turned his attention to small piece of chalk in front of him. Professor McGonagall had explained to him that it was for bonus marks, if he got it wrong which was likely there would be no negative grading.

His task was supposed to transfigure the chalk piece given to him into a live caterpillar. Difficult task when all he knew about non-living to living transfiguration was a few classes on the topic held at the end of the spring term just to give them a heads up on what they would learn the next year.

He closed his eyes once again, concentrated on the image of the chalk, as he flicked his wand over it; Harry imagined it changing form, the colour becoming darker, contortions developing on its body, legs sprouting underneath it.

And with a final burst of concentration, he imagined it filled with life, wiling the transfigured chalk to react the same to his imagination.

As Harry gradually opened his eyes, he looked down upon the erstwhile chalk piece.

Harry frowned, if the thing in front of him was supposed to be caterpillar, it was unlike any caterpillar he had ever seen.

The thing looked more like a string of goo, a bit too thick and a bit too long. And it was most definitely not alive, as he'd willed it to be.

Harry sighed; he'd given it his best shot. And suddenly the thing (whatever it was) stirred. Harry watched with wide eyes, as the so-called caterpillar tentatively raised what could be mistakenly called a leg. It crawled forward slightly before stilling again.

Harry looked up smilingly at Professor McGonagall's usual strict face, who was looking inquisitively at the creature.

"Not a bad first attempt, Mr. Potter," she said after a moment. The professor looked up at Harry and asked enquiringly, "If I were to hazard a guess, you willed the caterpillar to filled with life."

"Err … yes, ma'am," Harry said. "But only after I had properly transfigured the chalk into the caterpillar, I don't understand why the structure of post-transfiguration was so off."

The professor nodded and asked, "Mr. Potter, what have I said about non-living to living transfigurations."

"Just that there is no such thing as non-living to living transfiguration. It's a misnomer, magic can't give life."

"Quite correct, Mr. Potter, as such, do you see your mistake? You attempted to make the caterpillar living, which is impossible."

"But if I failed, then why is it alive," said Harry, before shaking his head, "…, why is it moving?"

"You must have taken in to consideration what effects a living being has, such as locomotion and the magic attempted to mimic those. However, your attempt to fill the chalk with life was futile and erroneous and thus distorting the structure that you'd formed for the caterpillar," the professor explained.

"That'd be all. Mr. Potter. If you could kindly send in Miss Parkinson after you."

Harry got you up from his chair and mumbled a small thank you, before quietly shuffling out of the classroom.

**O**

"What're the deficiencies of a common Trip Jinx?"

"It'll only work if the person is in motion, that is to say, if someone is walking or running. The jinx is futile if the person is standing still."

"Right, right," said Harry, as he shuffled through his text-book of defensive magical theory.

"Of course, I'm right," replied Nott, lying prone in his four poster bed and lazily casting jinxes at the ceiling.

"If you're so sure then why have me test you?" asked Harry, a little irritated.

Nott shrugged. Harry put down the book in disgust.

"I'm bored," he said morosely.

Terence was busy with his NEWT's which were yet to start and he had no time for Harry. His 'puff friends from the study club were busy studying for defence and Harry, who'd been so nervous and worried for the defence practical could find nothing to do the day before the exam but sit and get bored.

Nott stopped his spell practice against the ceiling and spoke up, "I've an idea."

Harry turned to look at Nott with a monotonous gaze and asked lazily, "What?"

Nott rolled out of the bed and stood up with his usual mischievous smile adorning his face, looking directly at Harry.

"What?" asked Harry again, this time with the slightest inflection of excitement.

"Let's do some real defence practice," said Nott, even as he casually tossed a dirty off-white spell towards Harry.

Harry's eyes widened at the sudden attack and he fumbled on the bed. Grabbing on to the pillow, he lobbed it towards Nott and leapt off the bed in a tumble of sheets, pillows and books, while looking frantically around for his wand.

He located it on top of his bedside drawer and quickly snatched it off, hiding behind the four-poster bed.

Harry rapidly crawled around the bed and peaked by its side to find Nott squinting and vigorously rubbing his eyes as cotton flakes littered around his body and hung in the air, lazily floating to the ground. Harry gave a small smile as he realised that the pillow that he'd hurled must've borne the impact of the spell, disintegrating into a shower of cotton flakes.

He rolled out of the cover of the bed and sent two bludgeoning spells careening towards Nott. They stuck the reedy boy in his chest and stomach staggering him to the ground.

Nott, even though he couldn't see properly, and was lying on the ground injured from the impact of the bludgeoning curses, was exceptionally swift in his reply and took Harry completely by surprise. He gave a violent wave of his wand and Harry found himself dragged off his feet and into the air, flying parallel to the ground.

A cry of pain tore through Harry's throat when the flight came to an end and he crashed his back against the corner of someone's bed.

With guttural groan, he attempted to stand up using the bed as a crutch. Harry had barely stood on his feet, when he heard Nott cry out something. Harry looked up to see Nott standing on his feet, his eyes clear, moments before something slammed into his chin with enough force to throw Harry off his feet and on top of the bed behind him.

Harry gave a cry of frustration at being so easily out-duelled. He heard Nott spell something once again and reactively spun his own wand and conjured the Shield Charm.

He felt something hit the shield, the slight vibrations of the impact shaking his arm. A few mere moments later he heard Nott coughing wildly. Harry lifted his head and saw Nott on his knees, heaving the contents of stomach. A retching jinx, Harry recognised from Terence; it was however the first time he was seeing it in action. He curled his nose in disgust, feeling quiet glad that he had chosen the right moment and the right curse to block.

Gingerly, Harry sat up on the bed, his back protesting. Knowing well enough from Terence that the jinx did not last long, Harry threw a bruising hex towards Nott and leapt off the four-poster bed himself and took a position behind it.

Nott had barely finished his jinx induced vomit and had just looked up when the bruising hex hit him in the left eye, throwing his head back. Harry laughed when he saw Nott's eye and the area around it had turned into a round sickle-sized black spot.

Nott did not give too much credence to his black eye and swiftly got on his feet. He stood in his spot, one eye closed and darkened, and his left hand massaging his chest that must have been borne the impact of the retching jinx, his other arm clutching his wand tightly, pointed straight toward Harry.

Harry, on the other hand, stood awkwardly, a yard or two away from Nott, trying to find a position that would ease the pain in his back, his left arm rubbing his chin that had felt one of Nott's curses. While his right-arm was crossed against his chest ready to throw the Shield Charm at a moment's notice.

They both looked at each other willing the other one to give up their plans. The staring went on for a while before Nott suddenly whipped his wand and sent a spell towards Harry, who chose not block the spell but duck behind the bed and immediately strafed out by its side casting a rapid flurry of bludgeoners at where he'd previously seen Nott to be, only to witness Nott standing on top of one of the bed's, even as he cast his retaliatory spells on Harry.

Harry'd to dive sideways into the ground to avoid the spell but he couldn't avoid the injury the hard tiled flooring made against his chest and arms. Harry spun on the ground and rolled a bit to come to rest once again behind a bed, finding momentary respite from Nott's incessant curses.

**O**

"You're pretty good, Potter," said Nott over his shoulder, as he rummaged through his trunk.

"Speak for yourself," Harry said, as he sat cross-legged on the floor beside Nott, checking up on the many scratches that he had endured during the impromptu duel.

"I should go to the infirmary," said Harry after a while, gingerly poking his chin with his index finger and stifling the cry of the pain the twitch produced.

Nott didn't reply for a while, before turning back and handing him a small wooden box.

Harry took it curiously, before asking, "What's it?"

Nott opened the box in Harry's hand to reveal a bunch of potions and ointments.

"No need to go to the infirmary for something as insignificant as that," Nott said pointing to Harry's chin.

He picked out a small container of yellow jelly from the veritable contents of potions from the box. "Just apply this where it hurts," Nott said, before taking a generous swipe of the yellow substance himself with his two finders and began applying it on his black eye.

Harry picked the container and smelled the ointment slightly before snatching it away from his face. It smelled like rotten eggs that had half decomposed. With trepidation, and following Nott's cue, he applied it over his jaw. He felt an intense cooling sensation followed immediately by sharp stinging.

Harry took in a deep breath as feel dozen small tiny pin pricks assault his chin, which subsided a moment later. He released his breath that he found himself involuntarily holding and gradually poked his injury once again. He smiled when found that the swelling had gone and the injury no longer throbbed painfully as it did moments before. Harry knew without looking at a mirror that his chin had healed. He quickly proceeded to rub the ointment on his beaten torso.

"Where did you get this?" asked Harry looking at the bottle of the ointment but still holding it away from his olfactory senses. He'd healed almost all of his injuries in a matter of minutes. Something like this would have made his life so much easier with Dudley.

"Bought it," Nott said, now casually reclining on a bed, his own scuffles healed.

"Where from?" asked Harry curiously.

Nott looked from his throne of cushions that he'd carefully arranged around in the bed. "The apothecary, Potter, in Diagon Alley. They sell all sorts of this stuff. That," he continued, pointing to the wooden cask that he had handed him earlier, "is a basic medic-aid kit. I thought all the first years carry one around."

"Whatever for," asked Harry inquiringly. He thought it was useful to have this stuff around. But did not see the point of having what appeared to be a wizarding first-aid box for every first year.

Nott frowned at him and then said after a fashion, "It's bothersome to go to Madam Pomfrey everytime some senior thinks that you're good test target for a new jinx that they've learned."

"They do that," asked Harry surprised. Most of the seniors that Harry himself had met had been nothing but courteous and very friendly.

Nott smiled shaking his head. "Well, I suppose you're the Boy-Who-Lived and every one would just leave you alone. But for the rest of us commoners, getting hit with an occasional hex or stray jinx is not that uncommon. I mean, just the other day Adrian Pucey, a third year fellow, thought I'd be a good target for this new jinx that he'd found in the library. It had me growing this weird, large, pulsating boils all over my shins." Nott finished shaking his head in disgust.

"But Professor Slughorn –" began Harry.

"Not everyone is Slughorn's golden boy," Nott said, cutting him mid-sentence. Harry found himself rather disliking that nick-name that some seemed to call him with. "And anyway," continued Nott, "it's not that bad. It teaches you to get out of the way of unfriendly spells and what can happen if you get hit with one and helps build character."

"How does getting hexed helps build character?"

"I dunno. That's what one of the fourth years told me after he hit me with an itching jinx."

Harry was rather surprised to learn all this. He had never faced any such treatment from the seniors, most of them had been nothing been generous to him. His brawl with Diggory had been a singular incident and not a norm. He resolved to talk to Terrence about it, when he could find the Head Boy, given how busy he was with his exam prep.

Harry shook his head, after years of getting chased and beaten by Dudley and his group of thugs he believed it was time for him to get some slack.

**O**

It was with haunting trepidation that Harry set foot in the defence classroom. It was time for his final defence exam and despite all the preparation and hard work that he had put in for this particular exam he couldn't help but feel the nervous palpitations of his heart.

Harry strode inside the classroom trying to act more confident than he truly felt. The doors banged shut the moment he crossed the threshold startling him and ruining his impassive face of confidence.

Breathing slightly heavier than normal he approached Snape, who had not even bothered to look up from his desk where he sat shuffling through a sheaf of parchments.

Harry was about to pull the chair in front of the teacher's desk and sit down, when Snape finally spoke up.

"I did not ask you to sit, Potter," said Snape, his dark eyes boring into Harry, who tentatively pulled his hand back.

Snape stood up in a swift move pushing his own chair back. Harry reflexively took a step back.

This was not how he had anticipated his defence practical's to start. And as a reflex he reaffirmed his grip on his wand stuffed in his pocket.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape asked after a while, "How would you defend against a dark wizard? A person bent on attacking you? You, after all seem to be an expert on the subject, do you not?"

"Describe to me the process that you'd employ to defend yourself against unfriendly spells?" Snape asked vehemently, his eyes glowing with a sudden dementedness, even as he strode around the table towards Harry.

Harry found himself moving back to his Professors advance, his wand pulled out of the confines of his robes almost as a subconscious gesture.

"I ... I, eh ..." stuttered Harry.

"Answer me, Potter," demanded Snape, his tall stature looming over Harry.

"I'd block the unfriendly spells and retaliate appropriately," answered Harry in a single breath, looking up into Snape's sallow face, that burned with a rage that Harry had only once seen before on the professor.

"I see," said Snape and took a single step back. Harry had to breathe a sigh of relief and loosed his death grip on his wand as Snape moved away from him.

"Well, in that case, demonstrate, Potter," asked Snape shortly.

Harry who was using his cloak's sleeve to wipe the sudden beads of perspiration that'd mysteriously appeared on his forehead stopped short.

"Sir?" asked Harry confused.

"I asked you to demonstrate your technique, Potter," said Snape and with a sudden gesture, and Harry was sure that the professor had conjured it; Snape had his wand gripped in his palm and pointed straight towards Harry's heart.

"Demonstrate Potter," Snape demanded once again.

Harry reacting to the developments lifted his own wand in a cross guard against his chest ready to cast any spell that might be required. Snape's own wand erupted in a shower of red sparks and Harry just as he'd anticipated moved to cast the Shield Charm and was taken aback with shock when he found his arm in a iron-cast stuck to his chest and unable to move.

Snape's jinx splashed against his chest and threw him back a couple of feet. Harry slipped on the flooring and unable to maintain his position fell flat on his bottom.

A knockback jinx, Harry deduced from the feel of it and realising that his hands were now free – and having no idea how they had gotten themselves stuck and unstuck on purpose – rolled on the ground to avoid any further incoming spells from Snape, just as he had done in his duel with Nott. He stopped in his second roll and quickly as he could lifted his wand. He hadn't completed the first syllable of the bludgeoning hex when he felt as if someone had grabbed his ankles and hurled him with miraculous strength straight towards the heavens.

His barely-completed-spell turned into a rushing scream as his body went flying towards the ceiling and came within a hair's breadth of impacting against the tiled ceiling before he was yanked downward and went spinning down towards the floor. Just as he was about to smash himself head first into the floor, with a sudden jerk his body came to a halt. He found himself floating about a feet off the ground.

And even before he could get a bearing of his self and assess the situation that he'd unexpectedly found himself to be in, the magic holding him floating abruptly cut off and he slammed into the ground.

Harry attempted to once again throw a curse, but before he could he even pull his wand out in front of him, he found himself yanked up, this time by hair, he barely got to see his professor leaning against the desk, his wand casually pointed towards him before he found himself cart-wheeling backwards in an odd jumble of limbs, robes and flying cloak.

His body slammed hard against the wall; however, the pain that one would expect from such a fast and forceful impact was missing. And instead Harry bounced off the wall diagonally into the ground and zoomed up into straight the ceiling.

He kept bouncing around for a while, his rotund body, magically forced, kept zigzagging from the walls, the floor and even the ceiling.

When he came to a rest, Harry found his head spinning faster than a top, his limbs askew and glasses hung limply from one of his ears. It took him a minute to finally understand that he was no longer moving and that his body was lying on the cold ground. With a blearing headache, he fixed his glasses and carefully got to his feet to find Snape waiting for him.

The world tittered on its axis and Harry found it hard to maintain his footing on solid ground. He heard Snape speak as if from a distance yet loud at the same time.

"Perhaps it was too much to hope for your brain to comprehend simple instructions," Harry's blood boiled at that and the anger brought clarity through the blinding headache, rumbling stomach and tittering legs. Harry lifted his wand in a flurry of motion and as fast as he could cast the bludgeoning hex. He was shocked though when he found his hand moved to extreme right just as he completed his spell. Harry did not understand – he hadn't seen the professor cast a spell – how his hand could've moved away just like that.

Snape did not bother to stop and said, "I shall suitably dumb down for you then, you're to defend yourself by any and whatever means that your meagre mind can conjure up."

There was no warning for it; the spell came fast and sure. Harry despite expecting it, despite knowing that he'd have to shield himself found himself floundering against the rapidity of the attack.

He had barely pulled his wand in front of him and the Shield Charm's incantation was halfway through his lips, when the vortex of a violet jet passed through his belly. Harry gave a violent gurgle and sunk down to his knees. He felt his intestines twist into a knot, tauten up leaving him unable to vocalize the intense pain that passed through him. A moment and he virtually felt his belly unwinding.

He laid the there on the ground, curled like a foetus tears drops flowing through his eyes with a pulsating stomach ache unlike any he'd ever had before.

"Pathetic," Snape's voice spoke up.

A moment of quiet and Harry could not help but cry, his body was shaking and he felt his stomach cramping with an intense agony.

"Let me remind you, Potter that you're here for your defence practicals and I've seen nothing that resembles closely to a passing grade. If you continue like this, you'd surely fail."

"So defend yourself," Snape boomed.

Harry blindly lifted his wand and cast the shield charm even before Snape had finished talking.

A pale magnetic strand of twisting helical wires came floating towards him and passed cleanly though his shield as if it was not even there and stuck him in his collar bones. He felt them puncture a bloodless hole and embed themselves in his body.

A painful shriek left Harry that turned into a fit of rabid cough as the strand began to untwist within him and move towards his arm, crawling as if a pair of snakes had entered his blood stream.

His hands vibrated as the invisible stands now inside his arms gripped the muscles of his biceps in a vice like grip.

Harry lost all control of his arms and felt only the intense pressure of the strands present in the epidermis of his skin.

"Worthless, Potter," said Snape, "and you tout yourself to be the defeater of the Dark Lord. You cannot even defend yourself. You're nothing. You're alive only because someone far more skilled, far more capable than you died ... died to save you. On your own Potter you're nothing."

With a sudden jerk Harry found himself hanging upside down. His lopsided glasses gave him a bleary view of the professor still casually leaning against his desk.

"You'll fail this paper, Potter, for you've no shred of talent. I, for one am not blind by your claims to misgotten fame."

With an intensity that Harry did not knew he possessed and sparked by his want, his desire to free himself, Harry lifted his wand, still encased within his palms.

His arms had long since given up on him and the pressure of the strands on his biceps was ever present. Unable to feel the presence of his limbs, Harry gave a gargantuan scream and hurled his shoulders to the side, the momentum carrying his arms upwards.

He guessed more than he actually saw when his wand was in line with the professor and he screamed, pouring every fibre of his being into the spell, he cast, "Stupefy!"

A flash of red answered his call and a bolt of crimson went careening towards Snape.

Unexpected and caught completely unawares, the stunner impacted against his chest and lifted him bodily over the desk and crashed into the chair behind him.

The moment the spell had hit Snape, the magic holding him up let loose and he crashed into the ground with his neck.

Harry screamed as the impact hammered his skull. Within his arms the strands of magic gripping his biceps snapped and vanished from his body.

Harry did not remain lying on the ground, he twisted around came to a halt on his knees and blindly, without caring if they even hit his target, sent a half-a-dozen bludgeoning curses streaming around.

He did not stop, even when Snape shouted for him to, all the spells that he had learned, all the jinxes that Terence had taught him came bursting out if his wand.

"Enough!"

And Harry felt a sudden explosion tear through the room. The shockwave whiplashed him hard enough for him to stop casting and open his eyes.

The room was in disarray. And Snape was standing behind his desk no longer sneering. His pallor had turned grey as if suddenly taken ill. He was otherwise alright though. His hairs looked to be rather haphazard and a black shiner adorned his forehead, a bruising hex thought Harry, and the cloak on his left shoulder was somewhat smoking and he'd no idea what might have caused that.

"Enough." Snape repeated. "You may leave now."

Harry did not move as if not understanding the command. He remained where he was, crouching on the ground.

"Leave Potter. Now!" Snape screamed.

Harry finally broke through his haze. He got up and ran for the door expecting Snape to cast spells as soon as he turned his back. No spells came though and he left the classroom.

* * *

**A.N:** Next update _A __Story __of __Hallows __and __Horcruxes_.


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